


Mate for Mate

by MissChrisDaae



Series: Mate for Mate [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Beauty and the Beast Elements, Canon Divergence - Pre-Thor (2011), F/M, Jötunheimr | Jotunheim, Jötunn Loki, Mildly Dubious Consent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-16
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2018-03-13 07:20:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 27,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3372686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissChrisDaae/pseuds/MissChrisDaae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em> If one takes the life of a mate, then their mate shall be taken as retribution. </em><br/>Such are the laws of Jötunheim, the laws that Sigyn faces when she follows her beloved and his friends into the realm of the Frost Giants, and Theoric's blade takes the life of the Jötunn Queen. But rather than claim her head, Laufey passes jurisdiction to his eldest son, who claims Sigyn's hand instead. Out of love and fear for Theoric, she accepts.<br/>Loki finds himself quickly enamored of his new mate, but he has always been one for tricks and mischief, as well as a man with ambition. And that all may cost him dear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Offer

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Jotun's layer sketch](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/114370) by gavorche-san. 



When Thor’s coronation had been interrupted, Theoric had immediately called the Hawks for a patrol of the defense, as was expected. And Sigyn had returned to her quarters in the healing wings to change out of her finery and into something more practical. But, with no wounded from the apparent attacks by the Jötnar, she found herself rather aimlessly wandering into the feast halls, unsurprised to see Thor had overturned one of the banquet tables, with Sif and the Warriors Three inspecting the damage. Tentatively, she walked towards the dejected crown prince, lifting her skirts to sit beside him.

"Lady Sigyn, you would be wise to find better company at this moment," Thor warned.

"How could I be wise, I’m one of your friends, am I not?" she ribbed gently, touching his shoulder. "Thor, your day will come, I’ve—"

"Yes, I know you’ve foreseen it, so why did it not happen?" he asked testily, swatting her hand away. "It was supposed to be today! My day of triumph!"

"If not today, then another day," she insisted. She heard footsteps behind her and looked up to see Theoric. "Would you care to try? He listens to you."

"What else is there to say?" Theoric asked, running a hand through his brown hair. "We covered every inch of the palace, there was no sign of how they got in, and I do not presume to know my King’s mind. There may well be foul play afoot, but we’ve no way of learning anything without defying the All-Father—"

"Theoric!" Sigyn blurted in an attempt to prevent Thor getting ideas, but the spark in the prince’s eyes told her he already had. "Thor, _no_."

"It's the only way to ensure the safety of our borders."

"No, what it is is madness!" Sigyn argued. "You _had_ to say it, Theoric, you just had to speak your thoughts aloud."

"Madness? What sort of madness?" Volstagg interrupted

"Nothing," Sigyn said firmly. "Nothing is going to happen, and therefore, there will be no madness, think of it only as a jest—"

"The safety of our Realm is no jest. We're going to Jötunheim," Thor said firmly, and Sigyn let out a loud, very unladylike groan.

"It was forbidden for a reason, you… you… _fábjáni!"_ She lapsed into the _dvergrinn_ tongue of her father’s house. Theoric rubbed her shoulders gently, trying to calm her, but this was something that could not be so easily calmed.

"Sigyn is right," Sif interjected. "Of all your father’s decrees, Thor, this is one you must not break."

"We’d only be looking for answers!"

"Looking for answers and finding a battle," Sigyn grumbled to herself. "Would that I could box your ears and knock some sense into you."

"My friends, have you forgotten all that we've done together? Theoric, who gave you the courage to ask Sigyn for her hand?"

"I would have gotten there eventually myself!" Theoric protested, turning scarlet.

'Who brought you into the sweet embrace of the most exotic maidens in all of Yggdrasil?" Thor asked, turning to Fandral.

"You helped a little," the blond warrior said breezily. Sigyn rolled her eyes, burying her face in her hands as Thor went on.

"Who led you into the most glorious of battles, and to delicacies so succulent, you thought you'd died and gone to Valhalla?"

"You did," Hogun and Volstagg both confirmed.

"And who proved wrong all who scoffed at the idea that a young maiden could be one of the fiercest warriors this Realm has ever known?"

"I did," Sif said, practically dripping with confidence, and Sigyn felt a little twinge of pride at her friend.

 "True. But I supported you," Thor covered quickly. "My friends, trust me now. We must do this."

"What’s to stop me going to the All-Father and reporting all this?" Sigyn asked, raising her head to look at Thor pointedly. "Theoric, you’re the captain of the Crimson Hawks, if you defy Odin, you could be stripped of that, at best! At worst, imprisoned, or executed!" Her betrothed chewed his lip, the guilt plain on his face, and Sigyn threw up her hands. "It’s treason!"

"Only if we’re caught," Thor argued. "And we won’t be caught if you don’t report us."

"Love…" Theoric sank down on his knees so he was eye level with her. "Please…"

Sigyn gave a long sigh and shook her head. "Then I suppose I’m coming with you. If only to say I told you so, and to be there in case one of you gets yourselves stupidly injured."

* * *

"Useless!"

"Give it time, Hel," Loki said, barely looking up from the text he was examining.

"No, she’s right, you _are_ useless, little _bróðir_." Býleistr taunted.

"Are you ever going to have the imagination for a better insult?" Loki asked. "We all understand the irony, Bý, I’m the eldest, yet I was born like _Móðir_. Now, will you please stop? You’ve used it so many times, it’s like watching a child kick a wolf’s carcass."

"A wolf’s carcass has more use than you."

"And than you as well."

"Boys!" Helblindi interrupted her squabbling brothers. "Stop! You’re giving me a headache, and neither of you are acting like princes of Jötunheim!"

"Loki’s the one who sent those three into Asgard!"

"And it will pay off," Loki insisted calmly. "I know what I’m doing, I can play the long game, unlike you."

"Play all you want, it’s not going to make you King," sneered Býleistr. _That_ made Loki’s fingers tighten until their cerulean color was practically blending with the ice-blue of his House Lines.

"I could remove your balls, then nothing will be able to make _you_ King," he threatened.

"Children." Loki looked up and his siblings looked down to see their  _móðir_ , Queen Fárbauti standing in the door. "Enough. The sentries spotted the Bifröst opening. Your _faðir_  wants you with him when he meets whatever it is the Æsir have sent."

"All of us?" Helblindi asked, tying off the braid of her thick black hair and twisting it into a knot at the nape of her neck.

"Yes, all," Fárbauti confirmed. "Now." Both Býleistr and Helblindi were out of the room without any further prompting, but Loki took his time. "Loki."

"Why must I be present?" he asked scathingly. "We both know full well, _móðir,_ that you and I will be hiding away in the shadows with Boða because _faðir_ won’t want to risk us."

Fárbauti sighed and walked over to her firstborn, cupping his chin in her hands. "There is very little that is more precious to our realm than those of us born with seiðr, _lítill ulfr_."

" _Móðir_." Loki rolled his eyes at the pet name.

"No, listen to me. I know your _bróðir_  is relentless about it, but your size is nothing to be ashamed of. There hasn’t been anyone like us born in a thousand years, and our world needs us."

She was right and Loki knew it. "Very well. But I won’t like it."

"You would not be your _faðir’s_ son if you did." Both of them laughed a little as Loki set aside his book and slid off the chair to leave with her.

Even walking the halls of the still-devastated palace, Loki could sense the tension that was probably running through the whole of Jötunheim. And it would be a lie for Loki to say that he wasn’t feeling it too. After all, he was rather responsible for this, finding a path between worlds to smuggle three old warriors into Asgard, three men who had nothing left to lose. Desperation and desire for glory could drive a person to do anything. And it seemed to be paying off as he had hoped, but at the same time…. No Æsir had set foot in Jötunheim since the Great War. That was something that damn near terrified him.

As the last three Jötnar with seiðr, Loki, Fárbauti and his  _móðir_ ’s twin, Angrboða, were positioned on a ledge that overlooked the windswept remains of the throne room. The first thing that struck Loki about the arriving Æsir was the color of them all. Red, green, gold, pink… it was almost overwhelming. The one at the front could only be Thor Odinson. Just from the way he walked, it was clear he thought quite highly of himself and Loki had to admit he looked impressive in that scarlet cloak and silver armor against his blond hair and pale skin.

But then, Loki’s eyes lighted upon the smallest member of the group, a young woman with long golden-brown curls and skin that looked almost lit from within. Unlike the others, she was in skirts underneath the furs, and there was a satchel slung over her shoulder. It was clear that she was not a warrior, an odd thing given that the other woman in the group was armored and wearing trousers like the others. She also was visibly more nervous than the others, her eyes darting around and a tenseness in her features.

And yet, Loki could not tear his eyes from her, not even to hear what his father was saying. The woman moved a little closer to the prince, speaking in what she thought was a hushed tone, but the way the hall had originally been structured made it so that Loki could hear her perfectly. There was something lyrical in the way she spoke, something warm, or at least what Loki imagined warmth to be. "Thor," she whispered. "Look around you. This can only end badly. For all of us, please, let’s just go back…"

" You should listen to her counsel. You know not what your actions would unleash," Laufey announced, rising from the throne. "But I do. Go now, while I still allow it."

"We will accept your most gracious offer, your majesty," the young woman blurted before Thor could say another word. "Please, forgive our intrusion."

For a moment, it looked as though Thor might actually have been willing to listen to his lovely companion. But then Býleistr could not help himself, could not help saying "Run back home, little princess." The Odinson stopped, and gave a little chuckle, making the woman pale and shrink back against a man with hair a shade or two darker than her own. And then, chaos erupted.

Loki’s initial suspicions had been right, the woman was not a warrior, in fact, she seemed to be desperately seeking cover in the open spaces, trying to stay out of the way of both her fellow Æsir and their Jötun opponents, but the man she had gone towards seemed to be more focused on defending her than on actually fighting. Mates, then, or whatever the Æsir equivalent was.

Beside him, Loki felt his  _móðir_  flinch, and refocused, realizing that Býleistr had been put on his back by the Odinson’s hammer. " _Kǫgursveinn_ ," Fárbauti whispered, starting to move before Loki and Angrboða stopped her.

" _Systir_ , no," Angrboða urged. "You must not—" Fárbauti bit her, wrenching free and sliding down the ice.

" _Móðir!"_ Loki shouted after her, but she was already at her youngest’s side, helping Býleistr back on his feet. But Loki’s yell had the added effect of making the mated man turn, blade out, and slicing deep into the Queen’s side. Fárbauti dropped to the ground, clutching at the wound, and every Jötun stilled to see her like that. Even the Æsir seemed to sense something was wrong and stopped.

And then the woman who had been against all this moved, kneeling by Fárbauti’s side and producing a stone from within her satchel, crushing it into the gaping void of the injury. The rubble turned gold, and her fingers were glowing a pale violet. _Seiðr,_ Loki realized. This woman had it, she was a healer. That was why she was here. "Stay with me," she said, "please, try to stay with me."

" _Sváss_ …" Fárbauti said weakly. " _Lítill ulfr_.…" She reached up, touching the cheek of the woman trying to save her, and for a moment, they looked at each other in silence. Then Fárbauti’s hand fell away, and she collapsed on the ground.

The young woman looked up at Laufey, a mix of resolution and sorrow on her face. "We surrender, your majesty."

"You dare—" Thor shouted, but as she affixed him with a cold look, he grew oddly silent.

"Býleistr. Helblindi. Take them to the cells," Laufey commanded, voice heavy with grief. "All except her."

* * *

Sigyn wrapped her cloak tighter around her body, trying to shy away from the scarlet gaze of the two Jötnar guarding her. Thor and the Warriors Three had looked at her as if she had lost her mind and betrayed them, but Sif and Theoric had only been worried.

She started braiding a small strand of her hair, a nervous habit that she’d had since childhood. The last time she’d done this had been on the cliffs overlooking the city when Theoric had asked her to marry him. Now, she was doing it as she paced this comparatively little room, waiting for whatever it was Laufey wanted of her. The door opened, and her guards pushed her back into the hall.

It had been cleared since the skirmish, and there were two people now, Laufey, and a Jötun of a build similar to the woman she’d tried to save. Without the blue skin, red eyes and markings on his body, he might have looked Æsir, and a rather striking one at that. Unlike all the other male Jötnar, this small one had soft-looking black hair, and Sigyn could pick out the details of the lines decorating his body, a combination of the lines that adorned Laufey and the woman who had died. Was this their son?

"What are you called?" the small Jötun asked, his crimson eyes looking her over more gently than she would have expected. That didn't make her any less afraid of him.

"Sigyn," she answered, trying to keep the tremble out of her voice as she neglected to use her patronymic. If they learned she was Ivaldi’s daughter, it might bring unnecessary trouble to her family.

"Sigyn," he repeated softly. "Why did you try to save her?"

"I don’t know," she confessed. "Instinct, I suppose. I am a healer, your highness. And I was against this venture, I don’t want a war between realms."

"You said as much in the hall," the Jötun remarked. "Then why did you accompany the Odinson in the first place?"

"Someone has to be the voice of reason," she told him. "It’s why I always end up traveling with them."

"You are not a warrior."

"No, your highness."

"How much do you know of Jötunheim, Sigyn?"

"Only what I have heard from the warriors of Asgard. And I know better than to take their words as unquestionable truth."

"Clever. And the Casket? What of that?"

"I know that it is precious enough for people to risk their lives for it."

"Do you know why?"

"I confess I do not."

"It is the heart of our world. Without it, Jötunheim is dying. We need it back rather desperately."

"You want to trade it," she guessed. "For Thor’s release. The All-Father has no other heirs, he will need Thor back, you're counting on it."

The small Jötun’s lips twitched, as if he were trying not to smile. "You’re very clever, aren’t you?"

"I know how this game works," she corrected. "That’s Thor’s release, but what of the others? The Lady Sif, the Warriors Three—"

"They can be released with whatever the traditional ransom is for Asgard," he answered calmly.

"And Theoric?" she blurted without letting him finish. 

He cocked his head to the side, looking her over before turning back to Laufey. The old king nodded, rising from the throne and leaving Sigyn and his son alone in the hall. The son sculpted a set of steps up to the throne, settling into it as he loomed over Sigyn. It probably should have looked childish for someone so small to be in so large a chair, but his poise made it impossible for her to find any humor in it. He crooked his finger, beckoning her closer, and she complied.  "This Theoric, he is your mate?"

"My betrothed. We’re to be married at midsummer, your highness."

"Loki."

"I beg your pardon."

"My name is Loki, Sigyn. There’s no need for honorifics now, we’re alone."

"I meant no disrespect."

"I’m sure you didn’t. But, about your... Theoric... It was my _móðir_ he killed. Queen Fárbauti." So, her suspicions were correct.

"He didn’t mean to—"

"But he still killed her. In Jötunheim, we take that very seriously."

"As we do in Asgard—" He raised her up on a wave of ice that carried her towards him until they were eye to eye and placed a hand to her lips, fingertips gently brushing along her mouth. To Sigyn’s surprise, his touch did not burn her.

"Let me finish," he commanded softly. "She and my _faðir_ were _helmingr-sál_. Do you know what that means?" Sigyn shook her head. "It means soul-halves. It signifies a connection deeper than affection, or lust. _Helmingr-sál_ means that you cannot live without one another. To lose them is nothing short of devastating. And the punishment for this is…" he paused, lowering his hand as he looked at her.

"Death?" Sigyn guessed.

"Yes, but normally it is the death of the criminal’s mate, so that they may live knowing the pain they have inflicted."

"You mean to kill me?"

"I said _normally_. The law actually states that the punishment is a mate for a mate, but it has always been interpreted as death."

"A mate for a mate," Sigyn repeated, eying him distrustfully as the pieces of the puzzle began to fit together. "How many... unattached Jötnar of your size are there?"

If Loki was taken aback by her bluntness, he did not let it show. "Only two now. Myself and _Móðir’s_ _systir_."

"Then what you want is for me to be a mate for you."

"What I want is to make you an offer. You tried to save her, for that, I persuaded my father to grant you that much."

"How very generous," Sigyn said sarcastically, folding her arms.

"You’d do well to heed this," he warned. "Either way, one of you will be remaining in Jötunheim. If it is your… Theoric, he will be killed for the death of the queen."

"And if I stay?"

"You would be under my protection. No one would dare harm one bonded to the crown prince."

"Bonded? Forgive me, is that the same as marriage?"

"I could not say, I know very little of your Æsir customs."

"Nor I Jötunheim’s. But if you were to be...bonded to me, would that not prevent you finding your own _helmingr-sál?"_

"I have lived without a _helmingr-sál_ all my life, I can continue without one. A queen and an heir are different matters. Those are rather necessary if I am to inherit my father’s throne."

"I may not be able to provide you with the latter."

"Odin All-Father himself was born of a Jötun. Why not a Jötun prince from an ásynja?"

Sigyn bit her lip, forcing down the fact that she was not an ásynja, she was half-Vanir, half- _dvergrinn._ "I suppose you have a point, but… this is a lot to take in."

"Of course." Loki took her hand in his, pressing an index finger to the center of her palm. A blue spiral erupted from the point where he was touching her, just below her skin. "This will allow you safe passage back to the Bifröst. Speak with the All-Father. Take the time you need to make this choice… Sigyn." His red eyes locked with hers, and she nodded, suddenly finding herself breathless. "I will expect you to return within the fortnight with the All-Father’s decision. And your own."

"You needn't wait for my decision," she blurted, heart hammering desperately against her chest. _If I don't do this, Theoric will die_. "I... accept your offer. When I return... I will stay. As your... " she swallowed. "As your mate."

A shadow of a smile passed over Loki's face, and he lowered the ice that was holding her up, setting her back down on the ground. As she started the walk back to the Bifröst site, she kept glancing down at her palm, looking at the intricate swirls and knots that he had laid into her skin. To her surprise, they didn’t burn, or freeze, but tingled lightly. Whether in terror or relief, she wasn't sure. _Theoric, forgive me._

 


	2. A Decision

"You little monster!" Loki dodged Býleistr’s fist, conjuring a curve of ice to slide out of reach

"Don’t point the finger at me!" he shouted at his younger brother. "If you hadn’t goaded the Odinson, _Móðir_ would still be alive!"

"If you hadn’t—"

"Boys!" Helblindi threw up a wave of ice, pinning Býleistr against the wall before she grabbed Loki by the arm. "Shame on you! Both of you! Loki is right, Bý, and I hope losing _Móðir_ will teach you a lesson about holding your tongue and being less provocative. And you—" She turned her scarlet eyes on Loki. "Do you even _care_ that she’s dead?"

"Of course I care!" Loki conjured a double and switched places with it, escaping his _systir’s_ grasp. "But _Faðir_ explained something to me while you two were taking care of the prisoners. Jötunheim has to come before ourselves, we have to be royals before family. As her son, I will grieve her, but as the Crown Prince, I have to work towards what is best for Jötunheim."

"And that means letting the mate of her killer leave?" Býleistr demanded.

"She’s coming back," Loki said firmly. "And if things go as planned, she will be bringing the casket back with her."

"And if they don’t?" Helblindi asked sharply.

"I will still get a mate. And, in time, an heir."

"You selfish little brat!" Býleistr yelled. "Leave it to you to turn _Móðir’s_ death into a use for your little games!"

"Every game I play is for Jotunheim’s benefit!" Loki shouted back. "What point was there in you starting a fight with the Odinson? _Faðir_ said it himself, war is not something we can afford! I might have been able to bargain without costing any lives were it not for you!"

"Loptr." Helblindi gently used Loki’s child-name, which only served to irritate him. Fárbauti and Angrboða were the only ones he willingly allowed to call him that. He hated that Helblindi even knew it. "We cannot see into your  mind, at least tell us what you have planned so that we won’t upset whatever it is."

"She has _seiðr._ We need that," Loki pointed out calmly. "And I need a queen. The Æsir consider us monsters, and yet she tried to save _Móðir._ She is resourceful, kind—"

"Qualities that our people do not highly prize," Helblindi reminded him. "She might not last long enough to provide you with a healthy child."

"Maybe not our realm, but other realms do," he countered. "The Æsir will be reluctant to harm one of their own. And I can protect her. You know that I can." Býleistr scoffed, and Loki and Helblindi turned their gaze on their younger _bróðir_. "If you harm her, Býleistr, I will make you regret it," Loki warned. "I have _Faðir_ ’s approval in this, and he has granted me jurisdiction in handling the Æsir. To defy me is to defy him. Is that understood?"

"Yes." Býleistr growled. "Now will you let me out, Hel?"

Helblindi sighed, releasing him from the ice.  "I hope you know what you’re doing, Loki," she said warily. "All this worries me."

"I always know what I’m doing," Loki promised, slipping out of the room to go to the ice cells. He ignored the shouts from the cell holding Thor and the others, and went to the one that had been given to Theoric. Fárbauti’s killer was huddled in a single corner into a small position as was possible for a man of his size, the utter picture of remorse and fear.

"Ása-Theoric," Loki called softly. The warrior raised his head, green eyes wide.

"Tell me Sigyn lives," he said hoarsely. "Tell me my love is safe and I will meet my death without regret."

Loki raised an eyebrow, surprised at the man’s resolution. "I am not here to kill you. As for Sigyn, she is unharmed and on her way to Asgard to negotiate for the release of your company."

"Safe." Theoric relaxed slightly. "Thank… thank you." 

Loki paused a moment, considering his options before deciding on what to say. "She will be returning. You’ll have time to make your farewells then."

"Farewells?"

"You will understand soon enough," Loki told him, letting the barest hint of a smile tug at his lips. "You care for her greatly."

"I would die for her. She’s everything to me."

"You sound like Laufey-King. He spoke of the Queen in much the same way."

"I didn’t mean to kill her."

"That does not matter. I think you know this."

"I accepted that. But I am sorry. I know it does nothing to help matters or undo what I did. But I regret it."

"No you don’t. You regret failing," Loki corrected. "You regret not having been able to escape without being caught. All of you do, except Sigyn."

"You know nothing of Sigyn." There was a protective edge to Theoric’s voice now, as if he sensed on a subconscious level that Loki now held a claim to her.

"And you know nothing of me, or of Jötunheim," Loki countered. "I have heard enough from you, Ása-Theoric. If the Æsir pray… I suggest you do so now. And rather fervently."

* * *

"This is your vengeance for my refusal to be your pawn, isn't it!" Freyja shrieked. "How many times must I have refused to be carted off to some Jötun, and now you tell me my daughter is to _wed_ one?!?"

"Mother, the decision was mine," Sigyn said impatiently. "It has nothing to do with you."

"Do _I_ get no say in my daughter’s fate?" Ivaldi demanded.

"Father, please!" Sigyn was absolutely mortified. This was the first time her parents had ever been together in her presence, and all they were doing was arguing and making fools of themselves in front of Odin’s council, not to mention the entirety of their family.

"Enough." Odin’s voice was no more than a sigh, and yet the squabbling shield maiden and smith fell silent. For the first time, Sigyn realized just how tired the old king looked. 

"I’m sorry, All-Father, I should have done more to stop them."

"There is no stopping Thor once he sets his mind to something," Frigga reminded her kindly. "And your actions will have preserved lives, Sigyn. You have very little to apologize for."

"There is still the matter of the casket," Odin said, folding his hands grimly.

"I don’t like it either, but we cannot let our son remain a prisoner," Frigga sighed, shaking her head. "Nor the others."

"But can we truly risk putting the casket back in Laufey’s hands?" Tyr pointed out. "He started a war with it once."

"I don’t trust him very much, but … I believe his son will heed me. And he listens to his son… As far as I know," Sigyn admitted.  "But what other choice do we have?"

"Sister, as much as I hate to admit it, my niece has a point," Freyr remarked to Freyja. "Sigyn stands to become queen of Jötunheim through this arrangement, having someone friendly towards the other realms in a position of influence on Jötunheim would stand to benefit all the realms."

" _You_ married a Jötun, how is that working out?" Freyja spat at her twin.

"Better than any liaison you’ve had," Freyr answered calmly. Njörd strode forward and boxed his twins’ ears.

"Your mother would be ashamed of you both," he scolded. "But trust begets trust, All-Father. Is that not why Freyr was placed in Alfheim, and Freyja sent here?" The silence grew uncomfortable at the mention of the Æsir-Vanir war, but Njörd went on, looking only at Odin. "If my granddaughter chooses this, I see no reason to stop her. She has strength enough to survive in a place like Jötunheim."

"Loki said he would allow a fortnight to make a decision about the casket," Sigyn pointed out. "That will give me time to prepare what I need to live there. Regardless of what other decisions you make, I will be returning to Jötunheim. I cannot let Theoric die because he was trying to keep me safe."

"Very well, you are dismissed, Lady Sigyn," Odin announced. Freyja and Ivaldi had identical looks of indignation on their faces, but Sigyn bobbed a curtsy and left, grabbing her siblings as she left. The minute they were out of the hall, all six of them started talking at her.

"You want to marry a _monster—_ "

"Do you have any idea how worried Father was when we got summoned by the All-Father—"

" _Oh, Sig—"_

"You’re going to be a princess—"

"I cannot believe Mother and Father—"

"And to think that—"

"Please, one at a time!" Sigyn insisted as they all walked to her room in the healing halls. Var, Lofn, and Snotra immediately made use of the bed, while Nanna occupied the bench by Sigyn’s work table. Daenn and Nabbi took up similar stances on either side of the door, arms folded as they watched Sigyn pace around the center of the room. "Daenn?"

The eldest of them cleared his throat, frowning as he fingered one of the small braids in his dark brown hair. "Father gave his consent for you to marry Theoric. For you to cast him aside like this, even for so noble a cause as saving his life, reflects badly on our house, and we already stand disgraced as bastards. Odin can find another captain for the Crimson Hawks, you should not be made to suffer for Theoric’s mistake."

"It’s not casting him aside!" Var argued, bouncing off Sigyn’s pillow and over to the chest at the foot of the bed. "Mother and Father gave their _blessing_. It wasn’t a formally arranged marriage. And besides, all Grandfather's heirs are girls, except you and Nabbi, since Uncle’s King of Alfheim. It only makes sense that we might be used for political matches, especially because we're not technically allowed to rule Vanaheim." She opened the chest, pulling out the red dress Sigyn had worn when she’d first been presented to the All-Father. "You need a bigger wardrobe, sister."

Sigyn rolled her eyes, envying the simplicity of her youngest sister’s mindset. "I think it might be better to leave that up to Loki."

"I think Thor had the right idea," Lofn declared, pulling a dagger from her hip and tossing it back and forth in her hands. "This Jötun prince should pay for daring to presume he can _claim_ one of us, when we are not even of Asgard."

"Lofn, he doesn’t know I’m not of Asgard, I didn’t tell him my parentage," Sigyn explained. "You know Mother hates the Jötnar more than most people, given the number that have tried to take her as their wife."

"I’m worried for you, Sigyn," Nanna spoke up in her usual soft way. "Jötunheim is a realm of monsters, what if you cannot live there?"

"I… I don’t think they’re actually monsters." Sigyn touched her marked palm to the spot on her face Queen Fárbauti had touched. "I believe the stories we’ve all heard may have exaggerated their nature." She glanced over at Nabbi and Snotra, both of whom had been very quiet. "Do either of you have thoughts on the matter you would like me to hear?"

Snotra bit her full lower lip, moving her braid from one shoulder to the other. "Like Nanna, I worry. I have not heard of _any_ of Laufey’s children before today. For him to have a sorcerer son as his heir seems… Odd. But then, I suppose you’re right. We know very little about the Jötnar. Perhaps this will suit you. But I am sorry you will not be able to be with the one you love."

"I would have words with this Loki," Nabbi interjected. "In a way, Lofn makes a point. We don’t know anything about him, who’s to say he’s good enough for our sister?"

"I will not be in danger from him, what matters beyond that?" Sigyn asked. "What need I do beyond survive?"

"Surviving is not living," Snotra argued gently. "If you would not let Theoric give up his life for your freedom, you should not have to do the same for him."

" _Should not_ is not applicable in this situation. If he loves me as I love him… he’ll understand."

"We need to make you a better dress," Var interrupted. "One befitting a future king’s bride!"

" _VAR!_ " her siblings shouted in unison.

"Is it so wrong for me to think that if Sigyn’s going to be the wife of a prince, she should be able to dress the part!"

"The prince of _Jötunheim!_ " Lofn spat. "In my opinion, that makes him no prince at all."

"I didn’t ask your opinion on whether or not he’s a prince," Sigyn snapped, folding her arms. "And I’m sorry, but there’s nothing any of you can say to change my mind."

"Do we at least get to visit you?" Nanna asked. "Surely he wouldn’t keep your family from you."

"I don’t know. But if I can convince him, I will."

" _If_ doesn’t seem particularly reassuring _,_ " Daenn frowned. "None of this does."

"I know. But my mind is made up."

"Children, will you give me a moment with your sister?" They all fell silent, turning to see Ivaldi standing in the door. Without protesting, they all filed out, leaving Sigyn with their father. "I suppose they’ve already said they’re worried about you."

"Pappa, please." Sigyn sat on her newly vacated bed so that the dwarf could feel taller than her and reached out to take her father’s hand. "I know it’s not a very favorable arrangement, but—"

"I’m of a mind with your siblings. Your safety is what matters more than anything to us. We don’t stand a chance arguing with you, you inherited that stubbornness from both me and your mother."

" _Pappa._ " Sigyn tried to smile, but Ivaldi’s solemn countenance wasn’t exactly comforting. "What is it?"

"I survived losing your mother because I had you and your siblings to comfort me. Theoric—"

"Has his friends." Sigyn said, biting her lip. She didn’t really believe that. "This isn’t like you and Mother. The only reason I am doing this is to save him. Because I love him. He'll know."

Ivaldi cupped his eldest daughter’s face, thumb moving along her cheekbone. "I hope you know what you’re getting into."

* * *

Loki sat atop Fenrir, watching the Bifröst site patiently. The wolf sneezed and swished its tail, smacking the Æsir captives forward a few more steps. Býleistr snickered and Helblindi looked as if she were holding in a chuckle of her own before Laufey stopped them with a glare.

The sky rippled and the rainbow bridge opened before them, depositing Sigyn and two Einherjar. Each of the soldiers was carrying a wooden chest, and Sigyn was clutching something wrapped in leathers that every Jötun could probably feel the presence of. After nearly a millennium, the Casket was back in its home world. Sigyn walked forward, kneeling before Laufey, the dim light reflecting off a golden circlet that had been woven into her hair, and pulled back the coverings.

The feeling in Loki’s veins intensified as the Casket was exposed, his blood was almost singing. "As agreed," Sigyn said, her voice clearly on the verge of cracking. "For the release of the All-Father’s heir and comrades."

Laufey reached forward and took the casket in hand, nodding at Býleistr and Helblindi, who struck the chains from the Odinson and the four warriors who were not Theoric. Loki wondered briefly if he ought to have bothered learning their names. But, it was his turn now.

As he slid down from his wolf’s back, Sigyn rushed forward, embracing her chained lover tightly as she pressed her lips to his. "Forgive me," Loki heard her say. "And forget me."

"Sigyn, what—"

"Sigyn." Loki spoke her name firmly, so there would be no question of who was in command from _anyone_ witnessing this. "Say farewell and come here, _víf._ "

"I’m sorry," Sigyn whispered. "I wish you every happiness, Theoric. Farewell." And with that, she let go of the Æsir warrior, and went meekly to Loki’s side. The two Einherjar set down the chests they were holding and took Theoric by the arms, even as he thrashed and screamed his love’s name.

" _Sigyn! Sigyn!"_

"Heimdall, please," Sigyn begged, staring up at the skies. The Bifröst opened once more, pulling away all the Æsir and leaving the Jötnar with their prizes in hand.

Loki took his future mate’s marked hand in his and raised both of them up for the assembled Jötnar to see as he placed her on Fenrir’s back. "Hold tight to his fur, he won’t hurt you."

"He’s not what frightens me," Sigyn replied, and Loki saw her knuckles turning white as she gripped the fur at the scruff of Fenrir’s neck. There was a moment of deadly silence between the two of them as Loki realized she genuinely was afraid of him.

"You have nothing to fear," he told her, gently nuzzling her curls with his face. She stiffened at his touch, but he did his best to ignore it by tapping Fenrir. " _Heimili,_ " he commanded. The wolf took off running ahead of the others. 

Sigyn remained rigid throughout their journey, all the way back to the palace, but Loki found himself getting momentarily distracted by the flashes of light running through the air, the surges of power Laufey was surely using to restore the realm. He could feel his home being returned to its former glory, a feeling he barely remembered from his first few days as an infant. Even the palace was being affected, turning into a magnificent collection of spires and angles. "You don’t have to hate it here," he said gently. "Let me be good to you, Sigyn, and you could come to like it here. And me."

"Your highness." Her tone was formal and rigid. "I consented to be your wife, your mate, whatever term you prefer, for the sake of those I care for. Please don’t belittle that by acting as though we were equally unwilling strangers matched in this. Please."

"Would you have me be the cruel jailer?" he asked, mimicking her tone. "I could be cruel. But I could also be kind. Why you would prefer the former is beyond me."

"I would prefer honesty."

"Not a quality I’m inclined to utilize," he deadpanned, pinching Fenrir to stop in the courtyard. Angrboða stood waiting for them, and Loki released his grip on Sigyn to summon an ice ramp for her to step down. "This is Angrboða, _systir_ to my _móðir_. She will help you prepare for this evening." Sigyn gave him a very baleful look as she descended and let Angrboða lead her away.

Loki was left sitting on the back of the wolf he and Boða had created together from clay and blood. "To win her affections, Fen," Loki remarked, leaning in to whisper in his wolf’s ear, "will be a greater magical feat than anything else I have ever done. I suppose it’s well I’ve always been one for a challenge."


	3. A Wedding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for dub-con at the end

Sigyn wondered how long it would take for her to become sick of seeing blue, white, grey and black. Fairly quickly, she suspected as she followed Angrboða along the icy corridors and into a set of rooms that seemed far more delicately sculpted compared to everything else Sigyn had seen. It almost seemed like Frigga’s solar, with an icy fountain in the center, intricately carved walls, great windows that led out to a balcony and were sealed off with a wall of perfectly transparent ice.

"This had been Bauti’s when we first came here," the Jötun woman told her. "She left it when she and Laufey-King were bonded."

"Will it be expected for me to do the same?" Sigyn asked. "To occupy Loki-Prince’s chambers?" She hoped she’d done the titles properly.

"It will certainly be the case tonight," Angrboða said, not bothering to correct her, which relieved Sigyn until she realized what the Jötun had said.

_"Tonight_?" she repeated, gawking at her chaperone. "You mean we’re to… It’s to happen _tonight_?" When Loki had said to prepare for the evening, she hadn’t thought he’d meant the actual bonding. She’d been expecting at least a welcome feast before being wedded and bedded, and a chance to adapt to this new realm at best. Was it customary in Jötunheim to do things so abruptly?

"The moons will both be full and align tonight, such is a very fortuitous omen," explained Angrboða. "So auspicious a date may never come again for centuries."

Sigyn clenched her fists. Loki had probably calculated that when he’d allowed her the fortnight. The more she learned about her future husband, the less confident she became in her ability to fulfill the mission Odin had given her. For all his compliments that she was clever, Loki was clearly three steps ahead of her in this wretched process. "I see," she said through gritted teeth, removing her cloak.

She'd chosen to enter Jötunheim as she had Asgard, wearing the same high necked and sleeveless red dress and braided gold cord in her hair. Her arms were bare, save for the collection of bangles her brothers had forged for her and Angrboða raised an eyebrow. "Are you not cold, child?"

"I've spent the better part of a week with the All-Mother and the healers," Sigyn explained. "Learning and casting every enchantment I would need to live comfortably here."

"Wise of them," Angrboða said, and Sigyn regretted that she had not asked Frigga to better educate her on what it meant to be a queen. She had no idea what to say or do in this situation without seeming completely naïve and idiotic.

"What will be expected of me tonight?" she asked, taking another glance around the room. The door opened, revealing an ordinary sized Jötun woman with lines similar to Loki’s. "Oh… hello."

"I hope I’m not interrupting," the woman said, setting down Sigyn’s two trunks inside the room before ducking inside. The room was tall enough that she could stand comfortably. If Sigyn would be expected to receive guests in here, as Frigga did in Asgard, at least _that_ wouldn’t be a problem.

"Not at all," Angrboða said, sitting on one of the long couches, "and it’s rather suitable, since you two have not yet been properly introduced. Helblindi Laufeydóttir, this is Sigyn Odinsdóttir, your—"

"Oh! No, no, I’m no kin to the All-Father!" Sigyn interrupted in protest. Had Loki thought her Odin’s child too? Was _that_ the real reason he’d made the deal?

"You’re not?" Helblindi looked surprised. "We all assumed you were of his blood, given how you acted after the battle."

"Does that change anything?" Sigyn asked, panicking slightly. "Will the bargain not hold if I’m not of Odin’s house?"

"No, child. The laws still hold. Mate for mate," Angrboða reassured her. "But we do need to know your parentage for tonight’s ceremony."

Sigyn bit her lip, slowly sinking down on another one of the couches, which felt like falling into a great mound of powdered snow. Naming a false family was out of the question. Her mother would be far from pleased with her, but Sigyn had always been a wretched liar, and had no wish to try such things in front of Loki’s family.  "I was born of Freyja Njördardóttir to Ivaldi Sindrason," she admitted, fidgeting with her skirts.

" _Freyja_?" Angrboða burst out laughing. "Oh, Loki will find himself the envy of quite a few Jötnar when _that’s_ spoken. What are the odds?"

"Boða, I don’t think it’s very funny," Helblindi said. "If anything, it makes me worry Loki has bitten off more than he can chew."

"My mother won’t be coming here," Sigyn interrupted, lest the two Jötun women start talking as if she weren’t present. "She hates Jötunheim quite passionately."

"I cannot say I blame her, with the number of lustful idiots from this realm who have panted after her," Helblindi scoffed. "Even Bý talked about trying to win her at one point."

"Bý?" Sigyn repeated.

"Býleistr is the youngest of the royal children," Angrboða explained. "You’ll be acquainted soon enough."

"I see…" Sigyn started braiding a strand of her hair. "Angrboða… getting back to my question, what will be expected of me tonight?"

"We’ll have to start with those clothes," Helblindi said before Angrboða could answer. "Take them off."

"I beg your pardon?" Sigyn shrieked, instinctively folding her arms over her body protectively.

"You can’t wear _that._ " Helblindi gestured disdainfully to the crimson fabric and Sigyn arched an eyebrow, examining her companions’ leather skirts and midriff exposing bodices. It was immodest by the standards Sigyn had been raised to uphold.

"Sigyn, please," Angrboða said gently, standing up to walk over and take Sigyn’s hands in her own ridged blue ones. "She means no disrespect, but there are traditions to be maintained when it comes to the bonding of a royal. And among those is the way you’re meant to dress." She pulled Sigyn upright, sliding the bracelets down her wrists.

"Please, don’t, they’re from my brothers!" Sigyn said, pulling her hands away before the bangles could be pulled free.

"You won’t lose them permanently," Angrboða promised. "You just can’t wear them tonight. Nothing of your old life enters the circle."

"Circle?" Sigyn repeated, walking over to her trunks. She opened one and hesitantly removed the bracelets, slipping them into the trunk, followed by the cord around her forehead.

"There’s a circle on the floor of the temple, surrounding the Casket’s pedestal," Helblindi explained impatiently. "That’s where the bonding of royals _always_ happen."

Sigyn slowly undid the clasps on the back of her neck, letting the dress fall down around her feet, leaving her in her smallclothes and slippers. Helblindi gave her a pointed look, and Sigyn sighed, removing the slippers as well. When the expression didn’t change, Sigyn folded her arms again, covering the swell of her breasts. "No."

"Sigyn, please."

"I won’t!" Sigyn said again. Helblindi raised her hand, moving to strike her, but just as her hand would have made contact, something threw the Jötun princess backwards into the far wall. Sigyn stared down at her hands, amazed to see the mark on her palm glowing. "What…."

"Loptr’s up to his little tricks again," Angrboða said, clucking her tongue. "I suppose it was only to be expected."

"What did he _do_?" Sigyn asked in alarm.

"It’s a protective sigil. No one can harm you," Angrboða explained gently as she went to help Helblindi stand up.

"Oh…" For a moment, Sigyn wondered exactly how dangerous Jötunheim was for her if Loki felt the need to so thoroughly defend her.

"I’m going to talk with Bý and _Faðir,_ " Helblindi announced. "I can see where I’m not wanted." Neither Sigyn nor Angrboða made a move to stop her.

"I would not antagonize her," Angrboða warned once they were alone. "She will be your _systir_ after tonight’s bonding. You would do well to get along."

"I don’t want to take off all my clothes," Sigyn insisted stubbornly. "I have never been nude in front of anyone but my sisters since I was a child. I don’t _care_ if it’s your custom, I will not stand naked before a population of strangers. Even at bedding ceremonies, there is at least some kind of coverage, I don’t want—"

"And you won’t be. There’s only me right now, Sigyn. Please. Take it off just for a moment, you’ll be covered again before you know it."

"Al… Alright." Reluctantly, Sigyn twisted her curls up into a knot, holding it in place so that Angrboða could undo the lacing of her corset. 

"Did you bathe today?"

"Yes. In the temple with my sisters." 

"Ah. Good. Then we can skip that part." As the boning and silk fell away, the Jötun woman traced a finger down from Sigyn’s collarbone to the curve of her décolletage, a soft blanket of snow flowing down in a simple white gown with a round neckline, cinched just beneath her bosom. It felt as though she were now wearing the powdered snow she’d thought was in the cushions, and as Sigyn turned, it didn’t disintegrate, or feel particularly cold.

Apparently, Angrboða wasn’t finished, as she started forming chains of ice gems all along Sigyn’s torso and down to her hips. Sigyn marveled at the artistry of it, afraid to touch them lest she disturb the work. "This is tradition then?" she asked.

"Oh, yes. I did it for Bauti, and I hope to do it for Hel, too, seeing as I’m her only female kin now."

"Most of the nicknames, I understand, but one is… unclear to me." Sigyn dropped her arms, letting her curls tumble down. "Why did you call Loki Loptr earlier?"

"Slip of the tongue," Angrboða said, lifting up the little strand Sigyn had been braiding earlier and casting a tiny frost over it before selecting another section of hair to give the same treatment. "It’s his child-name, the one his _móðir_ gave him. He used it for the first decade of his life before Laufey named him Loki. Only the family knows it."

"Loptr," Sigyn said again, tasting the sound of it.

"Best you don’t call him that. It’s very personal to him, and he’ll probably be cross I told you." Sigyn nodded in understanding as Angrboða finished with her hair and stepped back, inspecting her. "There. You look lovely. More than lovely. Now, let’s discuss tonight in greater detail, shall we?"

* * *

Loki glanced up at the night sky, watching the moons align. With the Casket returned, they now had a healthier, fuller glow to them, as did nearly everything surrounding him. Even his _seiðr_ felt stronger now.

He was just finishing with the task wrapping the etched leathers around his forearms when Helblindi stormed in, fuming. "Something wrong, Hel?" he asked pleasantly.

"You fucking _know_ what’s wrong!" Helblindi raged. "I go to slap a little sense and respect into that stuck up little brat, and your… your _sigil_ throws me on my back!"

"You shouldn’t have tried striking her," Loki said bluntly. "You know full well how valuable she is to me, to Jötunheim."

"Little shit."

"Uptight bitch," he retorted, raising himself up on the ice to slap his _systir_ across the face. "Let today be a lesson, Hel. No one harms my mate."

"Children, enough," Laufey interrupted. Helblindi stalked off, leaving king and heir alone.

" _Faðir,_ " Loki started to say, but Laufey cut him off.

"It would not be wise for you to keep everyone waiting, given how we have rushed the rest of this."

"I understand. I just… I suppose I thought if something like this ever happened, _Móðir_ would have been here. And something about what she did just… just before she died."

"She would have been proud of you," Laufey murmured, touching the top of his eldest child’s head. "But you remember what I told you."

"Of course, _Faðir,_ " Loki murmured, leaning into the touch. "I’m ready now." Side by side with his father, he entered the temple.

It was easier than ever to see the center of the temple, now that the Casket was perched back on its pedestal, casting a soft blue glow over the gray stone columns. The entire population of the city of Útgarðar seemed to have crowded in to watch this, which suited Loki just fine. Let everyone see exactly what he had accomplished, what he had gained.

He approached the edge of the circle, then stopped when he caught his first glimpse of Sigyn standing next to Angrboða. She looked resplendent, decorated in ice and snow, a rosy glow in her cheeks, and a regality about her that commanded notice. He knew he had been right to choose her.

" _Who comes forth to be bonded?"_ Skrýmir, the old priest intoned, his whispery voice carrying through the open air with an unexpected volume. 

Loki stepped into the circle, bending down to touch the outer rim of the design and watched the markings in the ground light up with the pale green of his _seiðr._ For the first time, they were properly standing on even ground, and it was bizarre to Loki to be looking at someone his own age who was shorter than he, but he managed to maintain his composure.

_"I am Loki,"_ he answered, _"of the Royal House, born to Laufey, born of Fárbauti, and I come forth to be bonded."_

Sigyn bit her lip, then slowly entered the circle. _"I am Sigyn, born to Ivaldi, born of Freyja, and I come forth to be bonded."_ There was a whisper through the assembled Jötnar as Freyja’s name was spoken, _everyone_ knew of the beautiful Vanir, and nearly everyone knew of her longtime tryst with Ivaldi, the smith of Niðavellir. Loki felt a new surge of triumph at the prize he had obtained.

_"With the force of the blizzard winds, I defend you,_ " he pledged, keeping his scarlet eyes on her fathomless blue ones.

" _With the strength of the mountain, I stand by you,"_ she replied, a touch mechanically, but that he had been expecting.

_"With the boundaries of the sky, I am your bounty."_

_"With the brightness of the northern star, I am your light in the cave."_

_"With this, I give all of me, and take all of you."_ They spoke the final vow in unison, and Loki clasped the hand he had marked with his sigil, summoning a web of ice to wrap around their hands, but to his surprise, Sigyn was also forming one. She seemed equally shocked to watch the ice running up from her wrist to her fingertips in delicate ribbons, but then, Loki recognized the aura behind the ice.

_Móðir._ Fárbauti had made a _gipt_ to Sigyn, passed along her powers before she died. Loki smiled softly, both at the thought and at Sigyn, squeezing her hand as their ice met and fused.

" _Fara ást eða hlyða! Góðvili! Heill dagr! Heil nótt!"_ Skrýmir announced, and the ice seeped into Sigyn and Loki’s skin. A solemn thunder of applause ran through the temple as Loki, keeping their hands clasped, led Sigyn from the circle and back through the palace corridors to his suite.

"You did very well," he remarked as the doors shut behind them. Sigyn shrugged impassively, and he frowned. "Nothing else to say to me?"

"What would you have me say?" she asked, looking at him incredulously. "I have only my own knowledge as to what happens now, your aunt only instructed me through the ceremony."

"You needn’t be so formal."

"You’re still a stranger to me." Her hands moved over the snow dress, clearly seeking a way to remove it, and he moved closer, touching the spot at her collarbone. All of it turned to fresh powder, falling away from her body and leaving him with a full view of her soft pink flesh. His eyes wandered over the taut stomach, the full breasts, the odd little forest of hair leading down to her cunt, every inch of her body, until she moved her hands to cover it. Beneath his leathers, Loki felt his member begin to stiffen in anticipation.

"You need those to do the same to me," he scolded gently, taking her hands and placing them at the leathers on his wrists. "Unwrap them, like this." He guided her through the motions on his left forearm, and she picked it up quickly enough to do his right arm on her own. Once that was done, she stopped, blood creeping into her cheeks as she stared at the leathers that concealed his own genitalia. "It won’t hurt you," he said, trying to be playful. She sucked in a breath and undid the fastenings, letting the kilt fall on the floor next to the other leathers.

Hesitantly, Loki took her face in his hands and mimicked the gesture he’d seen her perform, pressing their mouths together, and marveled inwardly at the softness of her lips. When he pulled away, she was still staring, but at least it was at his face. "Did I do it wrong?" he asked worriedly.

"Do it wrong?" she repeated. "Have you never given a kiss before?"

"A kiss," Loki said, tasting the word. "That’s what it’s called?"

"Well… yes…" Sigyn  stammered, clearly taken aback. "When you press your lips to someone else’s skin, you’re kissing them."

"So _that’s_ what it is, I never understood in some of those texts what they meant when they said _kissing_. I thought it would be… more perverted." Sigyn giggled at that, and Loki felt a little surge of triumph. He’d reached her, if only for a moment.

"What do you do, if not kiss?" she asked. He took her hand and raised it to trace the three curved lines along his forehead.

"This is reserved for mates and mates alone," he explained as her fingertips sent his blood surging beneath the lines throughout his entire body. She moved to touch the lines on his cheek, following the path down his neck and torso, towards his groin, then stopped. "Sigyn—"

"I can’t…"

"I know. But it’s necessary." He wrapped an arm around her and lifted her up in his arms, carrying her to the bed. She stiffened in his grasp, looking away again, and just like that, he knew the moment was gone.

Sigyn looked so pale, even for an _ásynja_ —He caught himself and corrected the term. His new mate was _dvergrinn_ and Vanir, which boded well. He knew Freyja had born her _dvergrinn_ lover no less than seven bastards, and that she had children by other lovers as well. If the _dóttir_   was anything like the _móðir_ , Sigyn would prove exceedingly fertile.

He set her down, tracing the contours of her body as best he could without any house lines to guide him. His fingers slid down the odd little patch of hair, touching a small fleshy nub just beneath it, which he rubbed experimentally between his fingers. Sigyn let out a whimper and he stopped for a moment, until he realized the expression on her face was one of pleasure, not pain.

" _Ah_ ," he breathed, leaning in to claim another _kiss_ as his fingers resumed. "You like that?" Sigyn squeaked in response, he felt the nub growing wet under his touch as he slipped his fingers in deeper, prodding at the walls of flesh as the sounds she was producing grew louder and louder.

Her fingers clenched around his biceps as she tilted her head back, and Loki felt himself growing harder just with the sight of it. His index finger hit one particular spot, and she let out a full moan.

Patience had never been one of his strong suits. He _wanted_ her, she was his by all rights, and he would have her, whether she objected or not. Lining himself up, he sheathed himself inside her all the way with a single thrust. He felt something tearing as he breached her, and she cried out, her nails biting into his skin, drawing beads of dark blue blood as he began to move inside her.

It was becoming more difficult for him to tell if she was crying in ecstasy or suffering, but he pressed on, determined to spill inside her. Just as he was beginning to lose count of the thrusts, he felt the rush accompanying his release, followed by the warmth of her own cum joining his, and then a long groan of " _No…"_

So it was pain. He withdrew from her slowly, and reached for the furs at the very foot of the bed, pulling them up over her. "Sleep now, little one," he told her, smoothing the hair from her forehead. "It’s over. It’s done now." _And you are mine._


	4. A First Day

Sigyn woke to a soreness between her legs and Loki with a hand at the small of her back. There were blue globes of light bobbing on the ceiling, giving her a better view of the chamber as he lifted her up and pulled a white fur from underneath her. It had been stained red in the night. Apparently, they had virginity swatches here in Jötunheim too. "Forgive me, I didn’t want to disturb you," he murmured, offering her his hand. "But we have one last thing to do. Come."

Sigyn slipped out of the bed without bothering to take his hand, and tugged one of the furs with her to cover her body. Loki clucked his tongue, as if he disapproved, and Sigyn narrowed her eyes in warning. "Just try it."

"I appreciate the strength of your resolve, but you are of Jötunheim now," Loki told her patiently, "and this is expected of both of us."

"I will not change myself, not even for you," she retorted. "And I will not go out there naked!"

"Sigyn, I will not argue this with you." He reached out and plucked the fur from her hands, his expression just as regal and proud as it had been in the temple. "Take pride in your own beauty."

Sigyn gawked at him, and he used that as an opportunity to lower the icy windows on the opposite side of the suite and guide her out onto the balcony alongside him.

There were even more people in the courtyard below than there had been in the temple, and Sigyn fought the urge to run back inside as Loki draped the furs over the balustrade for all to see. At least in Asgard, they had the decency to keep such things private! She kept her face averted as Loki pulled her closer, his blue fingers cupping her face as he traced her skin. There was a loud cheer from the people below. Mortified, Sigyn bit her lip and darted back inside the minute Loki’s grip was loose enough.

Her trunks had been moved to the suite, and she opened one of them, retrieving smallclothes for the lower half of her body and a sheer sleeveless white robe, She put on the former before lacing the latter closed. It wasn’t much in coverage, there was a clear triangle of skin on her chest showing, but her breasts were at least somewhat concealed now, and she felt marginally more modest. "What are you doing?" her husband asked sharply.

"What does it _look_ like I’m doing?" she asked testily as she turned to face him.

"I—"

"I _know_ you need an heir," Sigyn interrupted, "and I don’t know what the expected time of a honeymoon here is, but I am your wife, not your broodmare. And I will not be returning to that bed until I damn well feel like it."

"You think you can deny me my right." He narrowed his scarlet eyes at her, making him look far more like the monster that had dogged her childhood nightmares, but she forced herself to remain calm.

"I can and I will," she insisted, closing the trunk and folding her arms defensively. "You _hurt_ me last night, but I did not deny you your wedding night. The least you can do is extend me this small courtesy. Is there anywhere here that I can use to bathe?"

For once, he was the one gawking at her as he pointed to a leather covered opening in the wall. "There’s… there’s a hot spring inside."

"That will do," she said, brushing past him and into the indicated cavern. When she was alone, she realized, to her horror, she was acting like Amora and Lorelei, two of the most horrid women she’d ever had the misfortune to meet. She stripped down and slipped into the pool, giving a long sigh of relief as the warmth of the water began to soak in.

There was another set of lights bobbing along the ceiling, and little niches in the far wall with little pointed white things. Curiosity piqued, Sigyn swam over to handle one of the odd little pieces. "Starfrost." She looked over her shoulder to see Loki standing with a set of towels in hand. "They’re called starfrost. They dissolve in water of any kind, we use them for cleaning hair and skin."

"Where do you get them?" Sigyn asked, turning it over in her hands.

"They form in the caves of mountaintops," he answered, setting down the towels, and descended into the water himself. Sigyn shrank back into the corner, trying to be as far away from him as possible. "You needn’t do that. I’m not going to harm you."

"You did last night."

"Not intentionally." He moved towards her slowly, methodically, as if approaching a spooked cat."Am I at least allowed to know you a little? I am your… husband now, an I not? That’s the term, is it not?"

"If we were in Asgard. Or Vanaheim. Or Niðavellir. But we’re not." She set the starfrost back in its niche, closed her eyes, and submerged herself fully. When she rose, Loki had moved within arm’s reach of her.

"Sigyn, please," Loki said, reaching out to her.

"Don’t touch me."

He moved past her, taking a piece of starfrost and held it towards her. "I didn’t have any intentions towards you in that sense. I just thought you might want help with your hair. May I?" She bit her lip and turned so that her wet hair was all he could really see of her. His cool fingers began to work through the soaking strands, gently massaging her scalp. "You think me a monster, don’t you?"

"I have little trust for your race as a whole," she answered. "But for the most part, you have been a very gracious host… husband."

"That isn’t an answer to my question."

"You are Jötun."

"Is that synonymous with monster?"

"Usually." She said it very bluntly, with little emotion or involvement. To her, it was simply fact. "For Freyja’s daughters more than anyone else in the Nine Realms."

"You have _systirs._ "

"Four of them. And two brothers."

"Two _bróðirs,_ " he repeated. "Where do _y_ ou stand among them?"

"Third-born. The boys both precede me."

"And both your _móðir_ and _faðir_ yet live? Why did none of them come?"

"I think you know why my mother didn’t come," Sigyn pointed out dryly. Loki laughed from behind her, a soft little chuckle as he tended delicately to the strands of her hair.

"Yes, I suppose I do. But what of your _faðir,_ your siblings?"

"My sisters are all still maids, Father didn’t think it wise to have them come here, especially since they have not been afforded the protection you gave me. Of all my parents’ children, I was the only one born with seiðr."

"Ah. We have something in common, then." Sigyn frowned at that, she didn’t care to think she had anything in common with Loki.

"Lofn wanted to come," she told him, a hint of warning in her voice. "Lofn wanted to come and cut out your heart for daring to claim me."

Loki laughed again, apparently unintimidated by such a prospect. "I suppose it will be for the best if I never meet Lofn then."

"It probably will be better for you if that is the case. She inherited my mother’s warrior side, idolizes Lady Sif and has plans to run off and join the Valkyries."

"I wish her luck in that. What of the others?"

"Why do you care?" she snapped suddenly. "What does it matter what my family is like if I’m never to see them again?" She felt a pounding starting in her forehead, and paled, grasping the edge of the pool. _No, no, no,_ she pleaded silently. _Not now, Norns, please, not now._

"Who said you were never to see them again?" Loki asked her gently. "Once things calm down, and the pathways between worlds are properly open once more, you can see your family whenever you so choose."

Sigyn’s fingers tightened on the ledge and she let out a pained moan as the images began to take over. Unable to stop herself, she fainted backwards into Loki’s arms. the last thing she heard was an overlapping of two voices calling her name.

* * *

Loki stared down at his mate in shock as she whimpered and twitched against him. Of all the reactions she might have had, this was not what he had expected. "Sigyn!" he said again, "Sigyn!" When she didn’t respond, he started to panic. He lifted her up, carrying her out of the pool, and back to the bed, laying her down carefully. He looked up at the _ljós_ above them. "Get Boða. And my _faðir_." One of the orbs dissipated, comforting him with the knowledge that his command was being followed. He leaned over Sigyn, brushing back her wet hair.

The bed would be soaked, but he was more worried about her. It had happened so suddenly, and she looked utterly miserable beneath him, mewling pitifully and struggling to breathe. He kept a hand on her forehead, trying to sense a fever, but it was no use when she was already so much warmer than he. And he had no talent for the healing arts of _seiðr_. "Sigyn," he said again, in the vain hope she would hear him.

The doors parted and Angrboða hurried in, followed by Laufey. "What did you do?" Angrboða asked in alarm, pushing him aside to get a better look at the unconscious woman.

"Nothing!" Loki protested. "She simply… collapsed." Angrboða swept a hand over Sigyn’s form, probing the energy of her life force. "Is she well?" Laufey asked. Loki was pleasantly surprised at his _faðir_ ’s concern. 

"I can find nothing physically wrong with her," Angrboða said, "but then my skills are limited, I barely remember what it is to heal someone. I don’t feel I can recommend anything beyond rest, if I don’t know what the matter is."

Loki frowned, tracing the soft curves of his mate’s cheek. "I can watch her, then. I’ll send for you if she worsens. I’m sorry if I disturbed you, _Faðir_."

"You didn’t," Laufey said, nodding as he and Angrboða both started for the door. "We will hope for the best."

Loki gave him a nod in return, then gave his attention back to Sigyn. She hadn’t opened her eyes, but her breathing was easier. He stayed by her side, for how long, he wasn't entirely certain, but soon enough, she turned her head, her hand reaching out for something. "Water…" she rasped, her eyes remaining closed. Loki shaped a cup of ice before filling it with water from the jug that he kept at his bedside and helped her sit up. She took it, draining the water in one long gulp.

"Are you well?" he asked, noticing that she had yet to open her eyes. She nodded, shrugging as she passed the cup back to him.

"It was simply a stronger one than usual."

"A stronger _what_?" he prompted.

"Vision." After a moment, she opened her eyes, the whites now tinged with much more noticeable red veins. "There are times when I receive visions of the future. I don’t usually faint."

"You’re a seer," he marveled, pouring her another cup of water, which she accepted. "What did you see?"

"If I thought you should know, I would have told you." Her voice had become terse again, and as she drank, her features turned tight and grim. Loki frowned, guessing it was better to leave the matter be.

"Do you need anything else?" he offered instead, taking the empty cup from her. "Something to eat, perhaps?"

"No, just let me rest," she said, turning away from him and onto her side.

"May I stay and talk with you?"

"To what end?"

"I want to know you better."

"Can’t you do that later and let me sleep now?"

"I’ll be staying here either way, the only question is whether or not we will be speaking." He lifted a few of the dryer strands of her hair, braiding them loosely as an idea came to mind. Summoning his _seiðr,_ he shifted his skin to make it the same pale color as hers, his black hair turning brown, his house lines disappearing. "Would you talk to me if I were like this instead?" Sigyn turned back to look up at him, and struck him across the face.

"Change back. Don’t you _ever_ take his shape, or taunt me with what I’ve had to sacrifice, because it will only make me hate you."

"Don’t you already?" he asked, letting his natural form return.

"No. I don’t feel anything for you. But I hate this place. And I don’t want to see his face. It was hard enough saying goodbye to him once. Now to know… to know…" She broke off sobbing, curling into a ball like a child. Loki could only stare at her, completely bewildered. What was he meant to do? It was expected for them to remain in his rooms for a full fortnight, he couldn’t leave to attend the judgements and council meetings the way he had before bonding.

"I’m sorry," he said finally. "If… if it were my choice, I would rather have my _móðir_ back. She was my closest friend. As I think Theoric was yours. We have to live with one another, should we not at least be friends? Friends know things about one another, yes? Tell me more about your family."

Sigyn let out a very long sigh as her shaking and sobs began to die down, then nodded and spoke softly. "There are my brothers, Daenn and Nabbi, then me, and our four sisters. Nanna, Snotra, Lofn and Var."

"Daenn is the eldest, then? He stands to inherit?"

"The succession has never been very clear, all of us were born out of wedlock. My mother's true-born daughters will most likely inherit, whichever of them weds and bears a son first."

"So you have even more  _systirs._ "

"I have never met Hnoss and Gersemi. Nor my mother's husband, Óðr **."**

"Then, your siblings do not reside in Vanaheim, I would guess."

"Yes and no. They all still live with my father. He has a house he built for himself and my mother, right next to a passageway through Yggdrasil that connects Vanaheim and Niðavellir."

"And he is Ivaldi Sindrason, the smith," Loki recalled, stiffening a little inside. Sigyn most likely knew how to navigate the paths between worlds without the use of the Bifröst, if what she was saying was true. He knew he would not care to see what would happen if she were to discover his own passage into Asgard, the one that had started all this. Thankfully, she seemed more preoccupied with answering his question.

"Yes. And Lord of the Northern Mines."

"Is he a good _faðir?_ "

"I love him very much. As I do my siblings."

"Not your _móðir_?"

"I have only met my mother a few times that I can remember." She turned around to look back up at him. "My brothers tell me that she would only come when she gave birth to one of us. People say the only reason she bore my father as many children as she did is because he kept bribing her with precious jewels, not because she returned the love he still feels for her. My first real experience with her was the day she came to bring me to Asgard, to present me to Odin. And then I saw her again when the… discussions regarding my future, before I came here. She was not much of a mother. "

Loki bit his lip, still fingering her hair. "I am sorry," he murmured.

"It’s none of your doing."

"Never the less, I’m sorry." She was silent for a moment, looking up at him with those soft blue eyes that were a shade unlike anything else he’d seen in his life.

"Thank you, Loki."

"That was the first time I’ve heard you say my name," he remarked. "I like how it sounds when you say it." She flushed pink, and he smiled, letting go of her hair and reaching down to the foot of the bed to pull the furs up over her, until only her head was exposed. "You can tell me more tomorrow. For now, sleep a while. I’ll send for something you can eat when you’ve awoken." As her eyes began to close, he leaned forward, pressing another  _kiss —_ which he found he liked to do immensely— to her forehead. "And I will be here for you. Always."


	5. An Invitation

Sigyn wondered if she should have faked a vision the night Loki had taken her maidenhead. For the past three days, he had been treating her with the utmost delicacy, not pushing her about consummating again. Instead, the time had been filled with him asking questions about her family and her life, though avoiding the subject of Theoric.

_Theoric_ … Sigyn wondered how much time he had left before her vision came to pass. And she wished she’d been able to properly tell him that she loved him.

"Have you never seen snow fall before?" Loki’s voice broke through her thoughts, and she looked away from the window to see him sitting on one of the long couches, holding a chessboard.

"Yes, I have seen snow fall," she answered. "Winter is short in Niðavellir, and completely absent in Vanaheim, but there is plenty of snow in the high mountains, and my siblings and I used to climb up the peaks when we were children to build forts and throw snowballs. I was simply…. lost in thought."

"Hmm." Loki started setting up the board. "Do you play?"

"Chess? Not for a long time, I may be out of practice," Sigyn said, tugging at the sheer blue half-sleeves of the dress she was wearing. Underneath the twisting embroidery of the overlay, there was really only a thin white silk shift, but it was better than just her robe and small-clothes. Frigga had also had the foresight to give her several proper nightgowns as well. "You play?"

"This surprises you?" Loki asked dryly. "Yes, I play. _Móðir_ taught me, this was a gift she and _Faðir_ received from Alfheim when they were first bonded. You can come sit, I won’t bite."

Sigyn obliged, taking a seat opposite him. "You can move first," she told him. "I’m out of practice, after all."

Loki moved one of the white knights, and Sigyn chewed her lip, frowning. It was another unwanted reminder of Theoric, though Loki knew nothing of the vision, it would be better to keep it that way. She moved one of her pawns, and continued staring down at the board, watching the proceedings until Loki cleared his throat, making her look up. "Sigyn, I didn’t suggest we play this just to pass the time."

"There are few other— oh!" Sigyn’s eyes widened as she felt something within her quiver. A shift in her energy.

"What is it?" Loki asked, a hand reaching out to touch her shoulder. Sigyn ignored him, sucking in a breath as she summoned her _seiðr,_ and cast it over her womb. It was tiny, imperceptible to anyone who did not have _seiðr,_ but it was there.

"You will not need to bed me again," she said. "Your heir is inside me." She expected him to smile. Instead, he looked at her with a very somber expression, pressing one cerulean hand to her cheek and lifting up her hand with the other, placing a gentle kiss to the center of her palm.

"I don’t want you to think that’s the only thing that matters to me—"

"Isn’t that why you chose me?" she cut him off. "You needed someone who could give you heirs, I fulfilled that requirement. I have no interest in being courted in such a useless manner."

Loki stiffened, dropping his hands away from her as his red eyes flashed. "You made this choice, Sigyn. You cannot only direct this anger at me, I only made the offer. You accepted it."

"I never said this anger was only towards you, but the fact remains, you have been moving me about like a piece on a chessboard. I left behind all I knew— by my own free will, I admit that, but, never the less, within a day of arriving here, I became your mate and lost my maidenhead without fully understanding what you expected of me, both for the day and for my future. By the oaths I swore to you, I will honor you. So long as you behave deservingly, I will respect you. For the sake of the life I carry within me, I will try to be your friend. But do not expect me to ever love you. And do not try to make me do so." She stood, tipping over her king with a single finger. "I have no interest in playing such games."

Before he could get in another word, she left him and went into the hot spring room, sealing it off completely from their main quarters, and stripped down before submerging herself in the water.

* * *

Loki’s fists clenched so tightly that his nails cut the skin of his palm, a few drops of his blood landing on the chessboard. He _wanted_ her. Her respect and honor were all well and good, but _friendship?_ No. He wanted all of her, and it was all too clear that she was refusing to let that be a possibility. Most likely because of Theoric.

Even thinking the name made him furious. Clearly, this was something that would have to be dealt with. But he had promised Sigyn that Theoric would not be killed, what would she think of him if he went back on his word?

Of course, the more he thought about, this was only the case if Loki was the one to actually do it. He had promised Theoric would not be executed for the death of Fárbauti. If someone else killed him, if the Hawk met with some kind of tragedy…. He put away the chessboard and went into his study, pulling out the map of the paths between realms. There was the path into Asgard’s weapons vault, but then there was the opening in the southernmost borders of Asgard. And there were rock trolls on the other side of that border, greedy creatures, from what he had read. It would be a simple enough matter to bribe them.

He pulled down one of the _ljós._ "Tell _Faðir_ that, if he so chooses, he can make the announcement he is to be an _afi._ " The _ljós_ dissipated, leaving Loki to his task. Of course, he would have preferred being able to say whether Jötunheim’s King would have a _sonarson_ versus a _dótturson,_ as that would have put an extra bit of pleasure into the announcement, but there was no way of confirming the child’s gender at this point in the pregnancy. Even though he had marked the bed with runes for a son during his preparations before the binding, there was no certainty. But, if his _faðir_ knew Sigyn was carrying, that would decrease the amount of time that Loki and Sigyn would have to spend in isolation, and that would mean Loki could return to his usual level of mobility.

He made sure that the study was completely sealed before forming the necessary crystals and sheet of ice for scrying out the rock trolls. Before casting the spell, he shifted his feature to that of an Às, making himself look soft, weak and pale, certainly not the way anyone would expect the eldest of Laufey’s children to look. Feeling suitably ready, he pressed his bloodied palm to each of the three crystals, then wrote the runes on the sheet, speaking them aloud. The sheet rippled before settling on the grotesque clay-like faces of the beasts Loki was seeking.

"Às!" one of them rasped, swiping at the illusion of Loki, and the Jötun prince rolled his eyes.

"I’m afraid I’m not here, physically, at any rate. But…" He produced one of the fire jewels of Muspelheim. "I can pay you well, all of you, if you’re willing to do me a little favor. Who among you is the leader?"

One of the uglier ones pushed the others out of the way. "I," he snarled. "Geirrodur."

"Geirrodur." Loki repeated. "You seem like a clever sort of fellow. I’m sure you understand the value of these." He tossed the gem up and caught it. "Do this favor, and I can give you _three_ fire jewels, as well as a hefty sum in gold."

"I’m listening," Geirrodur growled. "What do you want?"

"Odin’s guards, the Crimson Hawks. There’s one among them, the one named Theoric, who has something that is mine by right. I want you to cause a little trouble, get the Hawks in your reach, and see him killed. I don’t care what you do with the others, just make sure Theoric dies. Can you do that for me?"

"How can I trust you?"

"Consider this a down payment. And a show of trust." Loki channeled the necessary energy to send the fire jewel in his hand across the realms to Geirrodur. "You’ll get the rest when I hear that Theoric is dead. Do we have a deal?" The troll narrowed his eyes for a moment, then nodded.

"We have a deal."

* * *

Laufey made them wait until the ninth day after their bonding before Sigyn and Loki were officially allowed to leave their rooms. That meant another full five days of awkwardly avoiding one another until the ninth day, at which point, they were summoned, not to the throne room, as she had expected, but to something called the Council Room, according to the little _ljós._

Loki was ready to go at an instant, but Sigyn refused to go until she felt she was properly dressed, settling on a dress in the style of Vanaheim’s southern regions, lilac silk with a gauzy royal purple overlay that also formed the full sleeves, and silver leaves trimming the bodice. There was also a head covering of white lace, but first she had to deal with the more cumbersome task of subduing the waves of her hair into a single plait, with the intention of coiling it at the back of her head in a knot.

" _Must_ you take so long?" Loki griped from the door. " _Faðir_ is not patient."

"You have your customs to honor, and I have one that is practiced in Niðavellir, Vanaheim, _and_ Asgard," she shot back. "By their accounts, I am a married woman now, and my husband is the only one to see my hair unbound."

Loki looked taken aback by this. "Why does it matter?"

"It’s a sign of intimacy."

"I was under the impression you didn’t want intimacy between the two of us."

Sigyn huffed in exasperation as she tied off the plait’s end. and started arranging it as best she could. "Loki, please, having this conversation again is only going to delay us further, and you were the one who didn’t want us to take long. If you wanted to make things go faster, you might _help_ me."

"How am I to do that?"

"Pins. Something to hold it in place."

"Will this do?" He came up behind her and she watched in the sheet of ice she’d been using as a mirror as he began forming little gems in her hair the way Angrboða had done her braids the night of the bonding. To her surprise, it held the coif rather well.

"Yes…" she murmured, touching it delicately before affixing the veil. "Yes, I’m ready now."

Loki took her hand and pulled her up to start walking. "You look lovely."

"Thank you." They walked in silence after that, the Jötnar who staffed the palace bowing as they passed until their arrival at their destination.

The Council Room was simply furnished, with a long table and seats formed of ice. The walls were carved with old runes Laufey was at the head of the far end, but Sigyn recognized two of the other people occupying the seats. Closer to her, with the tanned skin of his father and dark hair of his mother, was her uncle’s only son, and next to him, strange in the blue coloring of a Jötun woman, but the same familiar features and long raven hair, was Freyr’s queen. "Aunt Gerðr!" she blurted, unable to keep a smile off her face. "Fjölnir!"

"My dear sweet cousin." Grinning widely, Fjölnir slid off his chair and moved over to hug her tightly, completely ignoring Loki until his mother cleared her throat. "Sorry… Hello, Loki-Prince." He let go of Sigyn and extended a hand to Loki, who took it by the forearm with slightly narrowed eyes. When the two men let go, Loki moved his hand rather possessively to Sigyn’s waist, guiding her away from her cousin and up onto one of the larger ice chairs. His grip didn’t loosen once.

"He’s as hasty as his _faðir,_ " Gerðr declared with a hint of mirth to her husky voice, and a fond little smirk tugged at her lips

"I invited Gerðr-Queen and Fjölnir-Prince here to discuss new trade routes," Laufey explained to Loki and Sigyn, "given that we can now navigate by use of the Casket, but the Queen had expressed an interest in speaking with both of you."

Gerðr smiled gracefully, nodding as she looked from her niece to Loki, and it struck Sigyn that the eyes she associated with blood from any other Jötun suddenly looked like rubies when set in her aunt’s face. "Sigyn, dear, I’m sure you remember Alfheim’s fertility festival."

"I do," Sigyn agreed, giving a pointed look to her cousin, who winked. Loki’s hold grew even tighter, and Sigyn could feel her husband’s eyes narrowing, even without looking at him. "It’s approaching, isn’t it?"

"It is, and, given the news that’s been circulating through the realms recently, your uncle and I thought it would be appropriate to invite you and your mate to be the guests of honor for the festival."

"Oh." Sigyn felt her stomach drop. All the realms knew she was Loki’s wife now, and that she carried his child. She could only imagine what her family’s reaction was, what her _friends’_ reactions were. "Has my uncle— has Freyr-King extended this invitation to anyone else in my family?"

"Nabbi and Nanna will be coming," Fjölnir interjected. "I tried to convince the others, but your _faðir_ insisted it would be better if they were to stay… Given the comparative tender age of Var, and Lofn’s reaction to… recent circumstances. He said it would be better if he and Daenn stayed behind to supervise them."

"He needn’t have taken Daenn away from the festival, Father is completely capable of looking after Var and Lofn on his own," Sigyn muttered.

"Well, if my mate does not object, _I_ would be honored to attend," Loki announced, easily taking control of the conversation. "I’ve long wondered about Alfheim, and the wonders it holds, this seems as gooda way as any to learn more of the realms Jötunheim has been so long denied the chance to see."

"Angrboða will go with you," Laufey announced. "Best to do these things slowly, and she has more experience with traveling to other realms, and being able to adapt."

"I would agree," Gerðr said, returning the focus to Sigyn. "Well, dear? Would you like to attend?"

"I would," Sigyn said without hesitation. She needed to see sunlight and color, to feel warmth on her face, and be with her family. "I’d be absolutely delighted."

 


	6. An Arrival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for some cruel/hateful speech towards the chapter's end.

"No."

"Loki—"

"I _refuse_ to enter a realm being less than what I am, a son of Laufey and the crown prince of the Jötnar!"

"Then you will faint from heat exhaustion after five minutes on Alfheim," Angrboða said in exasperation, grabbing his hand. Her skin turned a few shades paler than Sigyn’s, the ridges of her lines still visible and her eyes went from crimson to blue. "You see? Simple, and easy."

"Sigyn won’t like it," Loki muttered ruefully, thinking of her reaction the last time he’d changed his skin.

"You’re not shifting only your outward appearance to look like her former betrothed this time," Angrboða scolded. "This is a far deeper facet of changing your form, but the main changes _are_ your skin and eyes. They _have_ to be changed, for you to be more comfortable in an environment that is not your own." Loki glared at her dubiously, and, with a huff that might have even been a snarl, Angrboða grabbed his wrist and began to bleach his skin white, leaving his lines intact. Loki shivered at the sudden biting sensation prickling over his skin, was this what it was to be cold? "Now, about your eyes…. Green, I think."

"Green? What are you—" Loki yelped in pain as Angrboða pulled his eyelids down and a burning sensation ran through his eyes. He'd forgotten about shifting his eyes, normally when he changed forms, they were his one constant, but Angrboða clearly meant to change that. 

"Bauti spoiled you," she grumbled, keeping her hand over his eyes. "You can't even take a little pain, ridiculous." Loki scowled in her general direction, not appreciating this deprivation of his senses, especially as Angrboða kept talking. "Of course, the Casket's loss did complicate things, what with the lack of easily usable pathways between worlds."

Loki shifted uncomfortably, hoping she wasn't about to inquire about the Jötnar he'd sent into Asgard, or the maps that he'd taken from his _móðir's_ study. The former, the entire family knew about, but no one spoke of it around Sigyn. The latter, however, was Loki's secret to keep. "Are you finished scarring me for life?"

"Hush, this isn’t scarring. It’s in your blood, from your _amma_ , my _móðir,_ Nál. Hel and Bý could probably shift their skins too, with help, they have _íss_ - _álfr_ blood, just as you do."

"Then why is this the first I’m hearing of this?"

"You never expressed interest in your heritage, you’ve always been so singleminded about the throne."

"Fine, then, tell me while you have me hostage here."

"Any members of the Jötnar who are born as we are have _íss_ - _álfr_ blood in their veins. It simply depends upon whether or not the blood is dominant or not, and that is a chance like tossing up runes to get a specific answer. Nál was half _íss_ - _álfr_ , so the blood is stronger in you, Hel, and Bý, but as the firstborn, you got the most of it." Angrboða removed her hands. "Well, come on, let me see."

Reluctantly, Loki opened his eyes, frowning at the suddenly dim lighting of his own home. It felt odd and foreign now, making him wonder if this was how Sigyn saw everything. It made her standoffish behavior seem a little more understandable. And then… "I’m cold."

" _Ymir’s pits,_ Loptr, is that mate of yours spoiling you? You’ve never been this much of a brat, or this lazy and I _know_ I’ve taught you spells to keep yourself warm." Angrboða boxed his ears before he had the chance to react, and turned on her heel to go rummage through a chest. Loki had barely reached up to rub at his now aching head before a wad of cloth and leather hit him in the face. "Go take those to Sigyn, ask her to help you dress, I have my own tasks to deal with."

"I’m going to make you pay for that someday," Loki warned, catching the curious assortment of articles as they fell towards the floor before skulking back to his own rooms.

Sigyn was sitting in front of her ice mirror, staining her lips with a red balm, but she turned at the sound of his footsteps. "Loki…"

"Were you expecting someone else?" he laughed a little, setting down the clothes on the table where they now played chess on a daily basis.

"Well, no, it’s just… you look… you look very handsome."

"Thank you." He could have made a biting remark about whether that meant she thought him ugly in some fashion when he was in his true form, but a compliment was still a compliment. He would take the progress that he could, until Geirrodur reported back to him. Then things would be different. "You look radiant."

And he meant it. It was surprising how much extra effort she appeared to have put into her looks for this. Even her lashes seemed thicker and darker, and her eyes had been lined in such a way that the iridescent blue of her irises seemed all the more intense. She’d chosen a dress similar to the one at their bonding, though made of silk rather than spun snow, and with a pair of sleeves that left her shoulders bare, giving the illusion that she had wings, like a snow bird. Her hair had been swept up into a sleek knot with no discernible beginning or end, a few loose curls framing her face, and a silver circlet threaded through the warm brown.

"Oh…" Her cheeks flushed even deeper than she’d already tinted them. "Thank you. Er… what are those?" She pointed to the discarded clothes.

"Boða gave them to me. She said you could help me."

She laughed, fully and warmly, standing up to walk over to him in a soft swish of silk. "All your cleverness, and you’re befuddled by _trousers._ Come on, off with the leathers, keep your small clothes on. It’s nothing I haven’t seen." Surprised by her frankness, Loki obeyed, watching as she picked up the item in question and held it up for him to see. "The laces go in the front, one leg in each hole, and then you close them up. Simple enough."

"It seems overly limiting," he argued as he took them from her and struggled to follow her instructions. He managed to get one of his legs in, but in attempting the second, he lost his balance, falling back on his rear and sending his mate into giggles again. "You might help me!"

"No, this is far more amusing." She perched on the long couch, covering her mouth with both hands in an attempt to hide her smirk, and failing utterly. With a huff, Loki conjured up a snowball and she shrieked. "Don’t you dare! It took me a full hour to get my hair perfect! I’ll help you, I’ll help!"

They were both laughing now as he got to his feet, and she retrieved the remaining articles of clothing. "Arms up, and through the sleeves" she instructed, holding up a soft green garment. Hesitantly, Loki raised his arms, only for the world to go dark as she pulled it over his head and guided his arms through the sleeves. When his head was freed, he was surprised to see her carefully threading a leather cord through the little holes along the collar.

"You’ve done this before."

"I have brothers. Brothers who have come home drunk and then needed my help to dress come morning. You’re easier to work with."

"I’m pleased you find me so."

"Oh, hush. Now, about my siblings. You’ll only be meeting two of them, the ones closest to me in age."

"I noticed that one of your _systirs_ wasn’t mentioned when Gerðr and Fjölnir were here. Snotra, I believe."

"Oh, no, they wouldn’t have felt the need to. It’s something of an unspoken and accepted fact in our family that she prefers staying at home and reading in her room. I suppose Aunt Gerðr thought it would go without saying."

"Hmm." Loki held his arms out to the side as she started with the next piece of clothing, a long black leather thing that went down to his ankles. The number of interweaving straps at the front was quite astonishing, but then, so was the skill with which Sigyn handled them. "Will you tell me about the ones I am going to meet today?"

"Nabbi and I are closest in age out of all our siblings, barely three seasons between our births. Nanna is five seasons my junior."

"I was hoping for more than their ages."

"Then let me finish, O impatient one," Sigyn scolded. "Both my brothers have taken up our father’s trade of the forge, but Nabbi is far better with detailed, smaller works than Daenn is. Jewelry, mostly. He can hammer out a strand of gold so fine that it almost seems like hair."

"A useful gift," Loki said, trying not to sound dry as he made the remark, but it was difficult. He genuinely couldn’t fathom the use for such a thing.

Sigyn just shrugged noncommittally. "He loves beautiful things. He loves making beautiful things. Which is why, I think, he’s very protective of me and our sisters, even more so than Daenn or Pappa."

"You call your _faðir_ the oddest things."

"It’s not so odd in Niðavellir."

"Hmmm. What about Nanna?"

"She’s… very similar. But softer, gentler. A very quiet, feeling kind of person, even as a little girl, she loved to run outside and spend hours just lying in the meadows of the flowers and staring up at the sky in Vanaheim. She hates Niðavellir’s nature the most out of all of us, I think. She was made for sunlight, for springtime. I wouldn’t be surprised if Pappa and Uncle Freyr aren’t trying to push her and Fjölnir together, now that I’m… taken care of."

Loki stared at her in horror. "Your _systir_ , matched with your _systrungr_?"

"If not for the Æsir-Vanir war, my mother and my uncle would have been my parents. The Vanir royals have a long tradition of wedding sibling to sibling," she told him stiffly.

"It’s incestuous!"

"Do I criticize your family’s customs?"

Loki could feel the conversation going in a bad direction, and he sighed. "You’re right, of course, I’m sorry. We shouldn’t be fighting."

"You started it."

Loki let out a scoff. "You’re supposed to be my mate, not my _systir_. Though apparently, that’s the same thing to—"

"Don’t."

"I’m only saying—"

"Don’t."

"Sigyn, you cannot honestly tell me you think it’s right for a _bróðir_ to lie with his _systir._ "

"It’s not my place to judge. Nor is it yours, not while we’re in Alfheim, and please, if you have any sense of decorum, _don’t_ bring this up to _any_ of my family." Sigyn latched the last strap into place and stepped back. "Well, there are still the boots to get on, but other than that, you look…"

"Acceptable?" he offered.

"Like a prince," she corrected.

"I _am_ a prince, therefore don’t I always look like a prince?"

"Oh, hush. Don’t bring up logic when I’m trying to pay you a compliment."

"It’s an awfully backhanded compliment."

"Loki, I can make you sleep on the floor for the entirety of our stay in Alfheim, stop being a brat."

"You and Boða both, calling me a brat, why, I can’t possibly—"

_"Loki!_ " Now it was Sigyn’s turn to box his ears. "I’m serious!"

"Very well, you have my word. No mischief or poking at your family’s… odd ways of bonding."

"Just so it’s ingrained in you…." Sigyn, features perfectly blank, walked over to the crystalline pitcher they now kept at the bedside, in case she had another vision, picked it, and returned to dump it over his head. Loki sputtered as the icy water hit him, wiping it out of his eyes. "Does that make everything clear, _darling_?" she asked sweetly.

"Excruciatingly so," he replied through clenched teeth.

* * *

Sigyn had forgotten how uncomfortable it was to travel through the paths of Yggdrasil that weren't the Bifröst. The energy wasn’t channeled properly, and every moment was extremely erratic and power charged, making it possible for anything to go wrong in a single instant. Apparently, Angrboða was a master at such things, because this was a much smoother process than traveling between Niðavellir and Vanaheim ever had been, but even so, Sigyn clung tightly to Loki until they had found solid ground again.

"May I have my arms back?"

"Oh! Oh… yes." She blushed, unwrapping her arms from around him and smoothing down her dress. "I’m sorry."

"We have an audience," Angrboða reminded them from the corner of her mouth. Both Sigyn and Loki immediately straightened, regaining their composure.

"Don’t stop on my account," Freyr called from across the pavilion where they were standing. "Actually, do stop, and come over here, Sigyn. I’ve missed my favorite niece."

"Uncle." Sigyn laughed, moving away from Loki to embrace her mother’s twin, and kiss him on both cheeks. "I do hope you said that to Nanna, too."

"Don’t be absurd, I can’t have more than one favorite."

"You’re too used to having only one of everything, Uncle," Sigyn scolded, stepping back to Loki’s side, and taking her husband’s arm. "Loki, may I present my uncle, Freyr Njörðarson, King of Alfheim."

"You have my deepest gratitude to inviting us here, Freyr-King," Loki said smoothly, bowing from the waist, though he maintained eye contact the entire time.

"And you are welcome here, Loki Laufeyson." Freyr was just as regulated in his speech, just as formal. "Both in my realm... And into my family." Sigyn could tell the last part pained him, though probably more due to the number of Jötnar that had tried to claim Freyja over the years than to Loki's simply being Jötun. "Ah, and Angrboða, as wild and lovely as I recall."

"Keep that sword of yours sheathed, King of Alfheim," Angrboða chuckled dryly. "Lest you wish me to deprive you of it permanently."

"I fear my Queen will have that dubious honor before you do."

"Good answer." The Jötun sorceress smirked. "Now, then, about our lodgings. Do I have my usual?"

"You do." Freyr snapped his fingers and a pale elfin girl with pointed ears and angular features all but materialized at his side. "Aelsa, escort Loki-Prince and my niece to their accommodations, will you?"

"Yes, Majesty." Aelsa bobbed a curtsy and gestured for Sigyn and Loki to follow her across the pavilion and down a winding set of steps to the residents for visiting dignitaries.

When she was a little girl, Sigyn had always been in awe of one particular structure, one that had always been noticeably empty, and that was the one where Aelsa was leading them. The artfully sculpted, crystalline spires that made up the Jötun residence. The elf girl threw the doors open with a flourish of silver sparks that bore a striking resemblance to snowflakes, leading Loki to say aloud, "you’re an _íss_ - _álfr_."

"It’s why the King has assigned me to attend you and your wife, Your Highness," Aelsa answered, as she led them inside. "If you need anything at all, just call my name, I’ll be living in the servants’ quarter here for the duration of your stay." Sigyn felt her jaw clench and a heat coil in her belly at the way the elf’s silver-blue eyes flicked over Loki, as if she were evaluating him. "The master suite has been prepared for you, on Queen Gerðr’s orders. I will leave now."

"Good." Sigyn all but snapped out the single syllable, her hand tightening on Loki’s arm as he just chuckled and waved the elfin servant off.

"Jealous, are we?" he teased, cupping her cheek, and Sigyn huffed in annoyance.

"It wasn’t proper for her to do that. They all know—"

"You’re avoiding my question."

"Maybe a little," she mumbled, averting her eyes from his malachite gaze. She could _feel_ him smirking. "I’m going to go see if I can find my siblings, and bring them back here to meet you before tonight’s festivities."

"Sigyn." Loki guided her face and eyes back to him, kissing her very softly and very sweetly. "You don’t have to, I’m sure they’d be far more… civil if we were to meet in a more public forum. Somewhere that would make it less possible for them to spew any bile they might be holding."

"They wouldn’t be so—" He cut her off, placing a finger on her lips.

"I think they would."

"You don’t know them!" she argued, prying his hand away. "Nanna, she’s sweet, and gentle, she would never… and Nabbi… knows when to hold his tongue."

"Very reassuring to hear."

" _Please_ , Loki." She pouted up at him as prettily as she could, eyes wide. "It would mean so much to me."

"Don't look at me like that," he warned, turning his face away. "You don't know what it does to me."

"Does it bend you to my will?" she asked, half teasing, half genuine.

"No, it makes me want to take you to bed and give you a good ravishing," Loki retorted, looking over his shoulder at her with an expression that could _only_ be called a leer, and Sigyn yelped, scrambling back a little.

"Don't _you_ look at me like that!"

"Why?" He just kept smirking at her, and she turned away, rubbing her arms against the chill suddenly going up her spine.

"It frightens me."

"Oh..." Loki's face fell a little. "I'm sorry."

"Just don't do it again."

"If you want to bring your siblings here before the feast, you can." _That_ surprised her. Was that the way to get what she wanted from him? Act like she feared him? In that moment, her fear had been genuine, but if she did it again... No, it wouldn't be right. She shook the thought away as she slipped out of the villa in search of her siblings.

* * *

When he heard the door close, Loki set about more thoroughly exploring their provided accommodations while he waited. He wandered about the crystalline corridors, thinking how it looked more like the little palaces his _móðir_ had made him when he was still called Loptr. Pretty to look at, but not exactly practical for living. The bathing quarters were rather fascinating, the washing area raised above the floor and separate from the rest of the room, with an odd structure snaking up to fill it with water. There were crystals in a little basket next to the basin, some blue and some red. Curious, he picked up a blue crystal and dropped it in the water before dipping his hand into it.

It was almost as though he were touching the sea of Jötunheim, cool and sharp, without being painful. The crystals must have been meant for temperature control. He swirled a finger around, curious as to how intense the red ones would be, but then a different idea struck him. He took a few crystals of both colors, arranging them on the floor in a circle as he cast out his scrying runes. The floor shimmered for a moment, flashing unsteadily before smoothing into an image of Sigyn and two people of similar skin tone, but darker hair, closer to his own. They were sitting across from her, arms folded in a similar, disapproving manner as they frowned at her.

“—just for a little while,” Sigyn was saying.

“Sig, I just don’t know if that’s advisable, surely a public forum offers more protection.” The woman, Nanna, protested, echoing Loki's own reasoning.

“He’s not about to _eat_ you. He’s a good man—”

“He’s a _monster_.” It was the other one, Nabbi, who said that, and Loki’s fists tightened. “Regardless of the pretty words or gentle touches he uses to try and convince you otherwise, Sigyn. That _thing_ inside you might as well have been conceived by raping you.”

“He is my _husband,_ ” Sigyn snapped defensively,“and he has been nothing but respectful of my wishes, he has not had me without my consent—”

“Of course he has! This entire mockery of a marriage is based on a threat! One that not longer holds any weight, you should just leave him, there are ways of terminating—”

“What do you mean, _no longer holds any weight_?”

Loki leaned forward, not wanting to mishear what was being said. Nanna went from crossing her arms to wringing her hands as she shifted uncomfortably, then spoke. “Theoric was killed in a mission for the Hawks, Sigyn. Rock trolls… Apparently Lady Sif and a legion of Einherjar came as reinforcements, they managed to slay the enemy, but only a few of the Hawks survived, and…”

“Oh.” _That_ was her reaction? _Oh?_ Loki didn’t know whether to be pleased or alarmed by that, but Nanna seemed to understand better than he did.

“You saw it, didn’t you?”

“I thought he would have had more time,” Sigyn answered quietly, looking down at her hands. “Time to have a life of his own, and a family, I didn’t think it would be so soon…”

“So you see, there’s no reason left for you to stay,” Nabbi interjected. “Leave the Jötun, get rid of its spawn and come home, Sig.”

It was immensely satisfying to see Sigyn slap her _bróðir_ across the face, and rise with all the poise and dignity of a queen. “I hope you have a better grip on yourself at the feast tonight, Nabbi. Excuse me.”

Loki severed the connection and returned the crystals to their little basin before ducking into one of the other rooms, one with a large window that overlooked the sweeping greens of Alfheim, and made as if he’d been fiddling about idly with his _seiðr_. A loud bang told him that the door had been thrown open, but it was followed by a high, keening wail. He bolted from the room, chasing the sound to find Sigyn collapsed on the floor of the front atrium, curled into a fetal position as sobs wreaked through her frame.

“Sigyn…Sigyn, _hjarta_ , what is it?” he asked softly, lifting her into his arms and holding her close. She wept into his shoulder, soaking the fabric through with tears.

“I’m sorry…. I’m sorry, you were right, I’m a fool, I…”

“Shhh.” He kissed her hair, still cradling her tenderly. “It will be alright, just breathe…”

“They want me to leave you. Because Theoric is dead. They want me to leave you, and they want…”

“Do you want to leave me?” he interrupted gently. “Never mind what they want. I’m asking what you want.”

Her shaking slowed as she pulled away slightly, looking up at him with reddened eyes. “No.” The single syllable was barely a whisper, but it delighted him all the same. “You…. we’ve been learning from one another. And you’ve been good to me…”

“As you have been to me.” He stood, pulling her up with him. “Come now, let’s get you cleaned up before the feast, we don’t want your family worrying about you, yes?”

“Yes,” she said slowly, leaning against him. “Yes, you’re right…. Thank you.”

Matching her pace, he looked at her, puzzled. “Thank you for what?”

“Asking me what I wanted.”


	7. A Ritual

"Sigyn, dear, come walk with me a while." Sigyn looked up from showing Loki how to properly partake the tart bread and honeyed wines that light elves indulged in after supper to see her aunt standing over her. Gerðr's hair was bound in a thick plait down her back, cinched with dark gold bands that matched the color of her form fitting, one shouldered gown flawlessly. "You will not mind, I hope, Loki-Prince?"

Loki shook his head, smiling graciously as he looked at Sigyn with the green eyes she was still getting used to seeing. "Go on, _hjarta_ , I can handle this sticky little tradition on my own."

"You say that now, but I have to wonder if your hands will reflect that when we retire." She was fully aware of the double entendre that could be made of her statement, and it made Fjölnir give a loud, hearty laugh, clapping Loki on the back as Gerðr pulled Sigyn from her seat and led her out of the feast and into one of the many glades that littered the palace grounds.

"I want you to be honest with me, Sigyn. No one can hear us, you may speak freely."

"What is it you want me to say, Aunt Gerðr?"

"I've been in your position, little one, or something similar." The Jötun queen reminded her gently. "I cannot help but be concerned for your welfare, going off to so different a realm, to wed a stranger."

"Then you _did_ marry my uncle under duress?" 

The question made Gerðr laugh, not the elegant little chuckle of a courtier, but a deep, husky stream of true laughter. "They're still bandying that story around back home, are they? Your uncle chose me and I accepted him gladly. It was my _faðir_ who made it out like I'd been stolen to be little better than a bed slave. Didn't Ivaldi ever tell you the story?"

"No. It was something of a verboten issue, seeing as Mother... You know..."

"Oh. Yes, of course, poor man... Well, in any case, it was in the aftermath of the war between the Æsir and Vanir. Back when Jötunheim was not exiled as it was in the Great War, though that time was not far off. Odin thought the best course of action in placating Freyr was giving him both a realm, though one that did not truly need a lord, and a queen, to keep him from pining after Freyja all his days. Angrboða and I were simply two of many ladies suggested, but the moment he saw my likeness, Freyr decided."

"And then what?" Sigyn sat on one of the vine covered stones, looking up at her aunt. "How did you come to choose him?"

"Sigyn, when the most attractive and eligible man in the Nine Realms offers you magic rings, his prized family sword, and claims he will die without your love, you cannot help at least feeling sorry for the poor fellow. I could only think how lonely and sad he had to be, and my heart went out to him. But, my _faðir_ did not want the match, and it took an edict from both Odin and Laufey for him to let me go. In spite of my interest in Freyr, I was still worried. Worried he would change his mind when I arrived, or that the people of Alfheim would not want me, or that I would fail to be a credit to my own realm. Your uncle took it upon himself to make certain I wanted for nothing, and made it a point of our marriage to treat every day as a courtship, and be worthy of winning my love anew. And it has worked for us."

"The circumstances are more than a little different, though," Sigyn pointed out. "My marriage to Loki was... A sacrifice. Retribution. More like what became of Skaði." They were both silent at the mention of the Jötun woman who was Queen of Vanaheim only in name, and even that unwillingly. 

"Which is why I ask; How does Loki treat you?"

Sigyn opened her mouth to reply, then stopped, thinking over everything that had happened in the weeks since she had pledged herself to Loki. "He is... a good husband, for the most part. I have not been as good a wife as I should have been. I have let my bitterness get in the way of seeing that he is trying. But I worry is that he is trying to make me love him. And I don't know if I'm ready for that. After losing Theoric, first to this deal and then to Valhalla…"

“Have you told him this?”

“How could I?”

"Because honesty is the most important part of building up a partnership, of any kind,” Gerðr answered. “Goodness begets goodness.”

“At least in a perfect world.”

“You have to work to make it perfect. I bring this up, Sigyn, because the ritual on the morrow will be all the stronger if you and Loki enter it with loving hearts.”

“Loving hearts,” Sigyn repeated dubiously.

“What you bring to the ceremony will be given to the land. That is why I suggested you two to perform it. You cannot spend your entire marriage tiptoeing around the fact that the two of you are now bonded for life. You need to find common ground, to make this a partnership of _some_ kind. For your own sake, as well as that of the child you carry now, and any others that you might have. Talk to him tonight, open up to him, if anything comes of it, so be it. But tomorrow, you must let go of anything that would taint your gift to the realm.” Gerðr kissed her softly on the forehead. “Think on what I have said.” And without another word, she left.

Sigyn stared up at the stars, fingers running along the sigil on her hand until the sound of footsteps behind her made her turn around. Loki stood there rather sheepishly. “Your family is rather an interesting one,” he remarked, smiling at her. “I think I am starting to like Fjölnir, though he is still rather overbearing.”

“Let’s retire for the evening, I’m tired,” she suggested, standing up and going to take his hand. “Please?”

“Is something wrong?”

“Why should something be wrong?”

“You aren’t usually so eager to spend time alone with me,” he pointed out. “Why not just tell me, and save yourself any attempts at lying?”

She let out a long sigh, rubbing at her temples in frustration. “No one here wants to know about the inner workings of our relationship. I was trying to be discreet about it. Please, don’t do this to me when I’m trying to apologize.”

That seemed to get his attention, as he furrowed his brow. “Apologize for what?”

“Not here,” she insisted. “I don’t want to risk what I need to say being overheard by anyone else.” This time, he let her take his hand and make their way back to the ice citadel, not speaking until they had made it to the suite set aside for them.

“Well?” he prompted, sitting on the bed and frowning at her. “What’s the matter?”

“You lied to me today. I haven’t been good to you, nor have I been giving you a fair chance. You’ve been trying to make this work and I’ve been so wrapped up in myself that I’ve ignored it.”

“Sigyn—”

“No, listen to me, I—”

He cut her off by pulling her down into his arms and kissing her. Until this point, their kisses had been brief, chaste things, by comparison, this one was burning, searing into her being as his arms wrapped around her, fingers expertly pulling the pins from her hair and letting them fall to the floor so that the brown waves could tumble free around them both. “Shhh, _hjarta_ ,” he murmured, moving his lips down her neck, and Sigyn whimpered at his touch. “I know.”

“You—” 

“Tell me you want me to stop and I will.” With a single tug, he released the cord at the back of her dress, she felt the laces grow slack and the silk beginning to slide down her body. “Say the word, _do you want me to stop?_ ”

“No.” The single word surprised her, but she knew, deep down, it was true. She… _wanted_ this. “No, please, don’t stop, Loki….” He claimed her lips with his own once more, pushing down her gown until the silk had pooled at her feet, and pulled her onto the bed so she was on top of him. Sigyn’s legs wrapped around his as she tugged at his tunic. “You’re wearing too much…”

“Easy enough to remedy.” With a single snap of his fingers, his clothes vanished and appeared on the floor next to hers. “Now, then…”

His teeth scraped against her skin as he kissed a trail from her collarbone to her stomach, down further and further. Sigyn cried out as she felt his tongue snaking out, prodding at the swell of her clit, catching her slick almost as quickly as it formed. “Loki…”

“Yes. Say my name again.” His fingers reached up, rubbing and teasing at her nipples while still lavishing the attentions of his mouth to the folds of her womanhood. “Let everyone hear it, my sweet Sigyn.”

“Loki… Loki…. _Loki!_ ” Her gasps turned into shrieks as he brought her to her climax, catching her spill quite eagerly and leaving her completely breathless. He moved his hands to either side of her and shifted his weight onto them so that he was above her.

“You are everything I have ever dreamed,” he whispered, leaning down until their faces were only inches apart, and she could feel his cool breath on her face. “And I am in awe of you.” He pressed his mouth to hers and she could taste her own cum on his lips, but it didn’t actually bother her. This was passion as she had never experienced it before. While she had never doubted Theoric’s love, it felt now like being submerged in in a placid spring compared to the veritable fire that Loki seemed to be able to create within her, now that she was letting him into her heart.

“Love me,” she whispered, reaching down to take his length in hand, stroking it somewhat clumsily, as she still wasn’t used to this, but the fact that he was starting to groan as he continued kissing her seemed like a good sign…

“Forever, _hjarta_ ,” he promised, helping her line him up so that he could sheathe himself inside her. “Forever.” It hurt far less than it had on their first night, and as he began to move, she found herself once again approaching a climax, this time in tandem with him, and as he withdrew, she wrapped her arms around his chest, snuggling close as sleep claimed her. The last thing she felt was her husband kissing the top of her head, and whispering in the language of Jötunheim, something she couldn’t quite understand. But the tender way he spoke it made her made her smile.

* * *

Loki awoke to the bright light reflecting off the crystalline walls, and Sigyn nestled in his arms, the glorious curtain of her hair strewn over them both. He leaned down, kissing her forehead and pushing back her hair just as the elf maid entered. “Your highnesses, I’m here to help you prepare for the day.”

“Let her sleep a while longer,” Loki commanded, carefully, and reluctantly, disentangling himself from his mate’s embrace as he rose from the bed. Aelsa’s brows arched as she looked him up and down, the desire clear on her face.

“Is she that disappointing, your highness?”

“Quite the contrary, I find she is the only one who could ever possibly sate me.”

“You must not have much for comparison if one of Freyja’s prudish baseborn brats suffices.”

“Insult her again, and I’ll see your lips sewn shut,” Loki warned, just as Sigyn pushed herself upright and pushed back the mess he’d made of her hair.

“Loki, it’s too early in the morn for you to make such threats,” she scolded, taking the silky bed linings with her as she stood and moved towards him, looking at their attendant with an unusually calm expression. “Tell me, Aelsa.” She leaned in so that her nose was nearly touching the elf’s. “What would my aunt have done to you if you made such blatant passes at my uncle, the King?”

“Your highness, I—”

“And _what_ , I wonder, would my uncle say if he heard you insulting his sister, or any of his kinswomen, for that matter?” Sigyn’s features turned hard and cold, her eyes flashed dangerously, and Loki could not help but think it was utterly stunning.

“I—”

“He _will_ know of this. After the ceremony. Do whatever it is you were sent here to do, then get out of my sight.”

Aelsa stumbled back, dropping two folded pieces of clothing before scrambling out of the room. And Loki found himself laughing. “My, but you can be terrifying when you wish it, _hjarta_. I like it.”

“She should know better, it’s a disgrace to her rulers, and—”

“And I’m yours,” he finished. “Not hers, nor any other woman’s.”

“You don’t belong to me any more than I belong to you,” she corrected, dropping her coverings as she bent down to retrieve what Aelsa had dropped, and giving Loki a very fulfilling view of her backside.

“And if I said I would happily be your slave?”

“Isn’t slavery forbidden on Jötunheim? For the same reason you believe in mating rather than marriage?”

“I’m trying to be romantic, Sigyn, and you’re making it very difficult for me.”

“The gesture is appreciated, Loki, but we have a job to do right now.” She passed him one of the bundles before unfolding the other, proving it to be a robe made of a fabric that defied description. At first glance, it seemed to be pure white, but then, it would catch the light and all the colors he’d ever experienced or imagined would appear within its fibers, and disappear just as quickly. Sigyn pulled her own garment over her body. “Don’t just stand there!” she scolded, clearly trying to hide her smile as she jabbed a finger at him. “Get dressed, we’re on a schedule.”

“Don’t fuss so much, I can handle this,” he protested, pulling on his own robe with a grin. “I would never dream of disappointing you.” She reached over and pinched his ear at the top, her nails pricking at the skin, yet it deterred him not at all from leaning in to kiss her again. “We return tonight to Jötunheim, and I would very much like a repeat of last night’s activities.”

Sigyn huffed, turning away from him. “Priorities, Loki.”

“Should my princess not be my priority?”

“Not when we have a ceremony to perform, now, come on.” She took his hand and led him out of their chamber, passing by Aelsa in a haughty sweep of her robes. Oh, yes, he definitely liked her jealous side, but even so…

“What happened to loving hearts?” he teased, and she blushed as his arms found her waist and he pulled her close to him. “Sweet, let it be, only you will ever have my heart, or my company. I’ll swear it now, and a thousand times over that I love you, and you alone.” Sigyn let out a little gasp at his touch, and he smiled at the knowledge that he was the only one who had or would ever produce such a reaction from her.

They left the villa and followed the paths to the largest of the glades on the palace grounds. Everyone from the previous night’s festivities had congregated around the edges of the clearing, with Freyr standing in the center, holding a roughly hewn wooden chalice that looked it had just been pulled from a tree. Sigyn and Loki approached him, kneeling on either side of the chalice as he set it on the ground and produced a glittering uru knife. “ _Bless this, our Realm,_ ” he intoned, taking the one of Sigyn’s hands that was not marked with a sigil and making a shallow cut, before doing the same to Loki, “ _accept this offering, the blood of those who come with full and loving hearts._ ” Their blood dripped down and mingled in the chalice. _“May this bounty, by being returned to the soil, sustain fertility to the realm and thus give new life.”_

A thread of Sigyn’s _seiðr_ surged forth from her hand to Loki’s, dancing over their fingertips as the cuts healed. Reaching down, they each placed a hand on the cup and lifted it up as they stood. Remembering the instructions he’d been given, Loki began to move, guiding Sigyn’s movements in an outward spiral around the circle. His eyes never left hers, and his pace never slowed, not until they had made a full circuit.

As they traveled, Freyr continued to speak, slipping out of the All-Speak and into the language of the Ljósálfar proper. Even if Loki didn’t understand the meaning, he understood that it was causing a reaction between their blood and the herbs and liquids that had already been in the chalice, he could see the golden sparks flying from the rim. When the Vanir-born King finished speaking, Sigyn and Loki tipped the chalice over onto the ground.

The path they had walked lit up, along with a thousand runes etched into the soil that he hadn’t spotted before. Loki could _feel_ the power radiating beneath their feet as it spread across the realm, and leaned in to claim Sigyn’s lips with his own in a surge of triumph, the ceremony all but forgotten. And, much to his delighted surprise, she returned the kiss quite happily.


	8. A Warning

After the excitement of Alfheim, Jötunheim seemed almost… peaceful. Yes, that was the word Sigyn would use. According to Loki and Angrboða, now that the Casket was returned, the seasons were coming back, and this was their equivalent of summer. The snow wasn’t gone, of course, but the winds were gentler and there was more light to the sky, though it was still darker than anything she’d ever seen anywhere else she’d lived.

Not that she minded. There was something oddly beautiful about the dark sky, especially as the clouds cleared, giving way to hazy, luminous streaks of color and countless glittering stars. Sigyn often found herself now sitting out on the rough hewn stone balcony, watching the sky as she rubbed circles on her growing stomach. It would have been idyllic if not for one thing.

“Out here again?” 

“Off to another Council meeting?” she countered, not even bothering to look over her shoulder at the sound of her husband’s voice behind her.

“Sigyn, you’re not being fair.” Loki wrapped his fingers around her shoulders, kneading out the tight spots. “You know I have to—”

“Keep leaving me alone here?”

“You’re not confined to these chambers, you know that, don’t you?” He moved around in front of her and took her hands, looking up at her with earnest red eyes. “You can move about the palace freely. I would never think to imprison you.”

“It can’t help but feel that way when I don’t know how to navigate these halls,” Sigyn pointed out. “However well you might mean it, I’m still very much a stranger here, Loki.”

“Hmmm.” He released her hands and slowly shaped a tiny replica of the palace and the mountain, yet another thing spun of ice that she never would have expected. “Consider this your map, then. Go out, make some friends today, I’ll find you as soon as the morning session adjourns and we can see a little more of Jötunheim together, yes?”

Sigyn hesitated as he carefully set it on her palms. “What if I break it? Or get lost? Or—”

“Sigyn, relax. It’s not going to break, I’m better than that.”

It might have— no, it was definitely the cocky little smirk on his face that led her to say “modest too.” And that sent both of them into a wave of laughter until it weakened Sigyn’s control over her bladder to such a degree that she felt the need to withdraw. “Go on, fool, get out of here, I’ll figure it out once your child stops tormenting me.”

“ _Our_ child, _hjarta_ ,” he corrected smugly, managing to sneak one last kiss on the cheek before departing.

Sigyn took the moment of solitude to examine the little ice palace. There was a small violet spark in their chambers, representing herself, she suspected. Before leaving, she tended to her needs, taking a moment to just stare at the expanse of her slowly growing stomach. “I hope you don’t give me any more trouble until at least a little later down the line, little one,” she scolded as she grabbed a soft white woolen shawl, embroidered along the edges with silver runes, just in case her journey took her anywhere colder in the palace.

* * *

 “I had no wish to be planning before there was good evidence, but now that we have that good evidence to support it, we should begin preparing for the Solstice Hunts.” Loki straightened in his seat as Laufey started the Council on their next topic of discussion. “It is my intention to lead the Hunts, and to bring Býleistr-Prince with me.”

Any excitement Loki might have had drained out of him. Býleistr was the youngest, Laufey might have at least _suggested_ Loki. For him to not do so felt like blatant favoritism, the suggestion that Loki could not lead the hunts, as had always been tradition for Kings, and therefore a suggestion that Loki could not be King.

“Býleistr-Prince is barely of age, my King,” Iði spoke up. “Surely it would make more sense to bring Loki-Prince, or Helblindi-Princess, they are older and wiser in the ways of world.”

“Loki-Prince will be staying here to act as Regent in my stead.” Loki nearly fell backwards to hear his _faðir_ say that.

“My King?” He cringed internally at just how childish his voice suddenly seemed to sound, but Laufey just smiled, crinkles forming around his eyes.

“It will be good practice for you, and I would hate to take you from your mate, especially when she’ll be that far along in the pregnancy. Though I do expect the little one to at least wait until we return before they make their appearance.”

There was laughter from most of the Council, but one member did not laugh, and Loki noticed. “Are you not amused, Suttungr?”

“I find it hard to be so, my Prince,” Suttungr said, “when I am hearing whispers that are anything but amusing.”

Loki’s good humor evaporated as he narrowed his eyes, and the room fell silent. “What kind of whispers?”

“I am not saying I believe them, my Prince—”

“ _What kind of whispers_?” Loki repeated, a dagger of ice forming in his clenched fist. “ _Answer my question._ ”

“There are those who believe that… that the _dóttir_ may be more like the _móðir_ than she seems. They say that she may have feigned the stains during the first night, that the child she carries is not yours, but the Queen-slayer’s…. or perhaps someone else’s.” Suttungr was almost shrinking in his seat under Loki’s glare.

“To insult my mate is to insult me and my entire family,” Loki warned, tapping his fingers along the edge of the ice-blade. “And that would be treason, wouldn’t it? Whoever is saying these things cannot be allowed to keep saying them. So, they must be silenced.”

“You cannot think to kill all who say this, my Prince,” Suttungr protested.

“Now when did anyone ever say anything about killing?” Loki gave him a slow, wicked smile that showed all his teeth. “Of course there won’t be killing involved, that would be far too… quick.” He was already running through several possibilities in his head. “I trust if people _do_ learn the names of those saying such things, they’ll report them, yes? It would be a terrible thing ifI had to start… pulling teeth, shall we say?”

There were uncomfortable murmurs and shifting in seats under his gaze, silenced as Laufey cleared his throat to regain the Council’s attention. “We are only just returning to the view of the other Realms. We must present a united front, to show them that these last thousand years have not weakened us. Alfheim’s invitation to their fertility festival was a very good start for us, but we must continue making progress. I want everyone prepared to discuss this when we regroup in three hours, and Angrboða, during that time, I want you to start working on cooling crystals and amulets so that we can begin to send out traders and ambassadors.”

“I shall start immediately, my King,” Angrboða promised as she and the other Council members began to disperse, leaving Loki and Laufey alone.

“You cannot be playing the tyrant like this,” Laufey warned. “Should you ascend the throne,you will need their support and cooperation.” Loki grimaced, both at being reprimanded like a child and at the implication that his future was still uncertain. Granted, he hadn’t exactly secured the throne yet, but there was no way of knowing that until Laufey actually died. “Loki, do you hear what I say?”

“I do confess much of the hearing it but little of the marking of it.” If he was going to be treated like a child, then he would act like a child.

Laufey gave a long sigh, shaking his head. “Ymir’s pits, I pray Helblindi and Býleistr are more mature by the time they start families of their own.”

“ _Faðir_ , I hardly think you’re being fair—”

“It falls on us to be fair to the people, Loki, without expecting such for ourselves. Threats are dangerous ground to breach in any circumstances. If you do not not follow through on them, you are seen as weak. If you become too extreme, you will foster resentment in the people. I want you to use this opportunity while you’re regent to learn what it means to be a king. Do not disappoint me.”

“I would not dream of it,” Loki promised earnestly, placing his hand over his _faðir’s_. “I know all too well the weight of this legacy. It is everything I have ever wanted.”

* * *

Sigyn carefully navigated the labyrinth of passage, marveling at the odd beauty of its rough nature. The craggy walls held crystals in every color she’d ever seen on the Bifröst, and even some colors she had no name for. Cautiously, she reached out to one of those crystals, carefully wiggling it back and forth. With a little _chink,_ it broke off and she tucked it into the pocket of her skirt for later examination.

“—at some point or other. I’m tired of having to wait.” Helblindi’s voice drifted down the corridor.

“Must we have this conversation again, love?” That voice…. it couldn’t be. Sigyn pulled her shawl closer around her shoulders as she followed the sound.

“Yes, we must. Every day that Vanir slut’s waist gets thicker with Loki’s spawn, and his schemes get him closer and closer to the throne. You said you’d help me, Skaði!”

No… it couldn’t be… It made vague sense that Skaði would be back in Jötunheim as soon as the paths were open, she’d always hated Nóatún, but as Helblindi’s lover? How long had this been going on? Sigyn pressed herself against the wall, using the crystal she’d plucked to refract the light so that she could see them.

The two Jötun women were lounging in a little cavern, Skaði laid back against a collection of smooth-worn rocks with her legs spread wide and her feet in the water, straddling the submerged Helblindi’s shoulders and stroking her hair. “You don’t want the throne, precious. It’s nothing but shackles wearing the facade of glory and power.”

“I don’t care, Loki doesn’t deserve it, and Býleistr is too stupid to do it properly. I’m the only one who could possibly do the job right. And when I get it, your enslavement to that idiot Njörd will be the first thing to end.”

“You judge him too harshly.”

“Oh, so you _like_ being his _wife?_ ”

“Do not twist my….” Skaði trailed off, frowning. “We’re not alone.” She disappeared from the crystal’s view, and when Sigyn turned her eyes back to the space in front of her, there stood her grandfather’s wife.

“Hello, grandmother,” she said, feigning nonchalance under Skaði’s icy gaze.

“I am surprised Loki-Prince permitted you to wander about in your condition, _granddaughter_ ,” the Queen of Vanaheim thew the title back mockingly.

“He’s probably the one who sent her here to spy on me!” Helblindi shrieked, emerging from the water in a fury. “There’s still that damn sigil on her hand!”

Sigyn clenched the marked palm. “Loki did not send me, he doesn’t know I’m here. But so long as I am here, let me give you a word of advice.”

“I want nothing from you, harlot,” the princess growled, and a cold surge of anger ran through Sigyn’s body.

“Do _not_ speak to me that way!” A tentacle of ice shot up from her feet, pinning Helblindi to the wall. For a moment, Sigyn had forgotten the _gipt_ that Fárbauti had given her as she died, the powers she now possessed. But she was grateful for them, because it meant that her sister by marriage was a captive audience as she looked back at Skaði. “I know you and my grandfather have no love for one another, but you have to know that what you’re doing is dangerous.”

“I leave Njörd to mourn Nerthus, and he leaves me to do as I please,” Skaði explained calmly. “And since there can be no children from this relationship, there is no reason any of the other realms have to know.”

“Then see you keep it that way.” Sigyn turned her attention to Helblindi. “Whatever plans you have regarding the throne, consider the fact that your actions have consequences. People could get hurt.”

“You know nothing of what it means to be Jötun. I can live with a few sacrifices, particularly if they include Loki,” Helblindi retorted, leaning forward and baring her teeth. “And if you stay out of my way, I might even send you back to Asgard so you can whore yourself out to whoever you choose.”

Another tendril of ice snaked out, wrapping around Helblindi’s throat, though not of Sigyn’s will… she looked down at her stomach, realizing that she could feel the power coming from there… from her child. “Shhh, shhh, my love, it’s alright,” she chided, pressing her hand to the slight swelling. “Pull back from your aunt. Pull back.”

Slowly, all of the ice receded, dropping Helblindi to the ground. “I don’t care what designs you have on the throne, but do not threaten me.”

“What will you do? Tell my _bróðir_?”

“No. No, much worse.” Sigyn lifted her skirts daintily and began to step away, giving Skaði one last glance. “I advise you to educate her on the necessity of discretion and restraint in politics. I’ve never had any interest in it, and even I know that much.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you can name me the line of Shakespeare I quoted, tell me what play it's from, and what character says it, I will be very impressed.


	9. A Change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh, it's been forever, hasn't it? I am so, so sorry. I know this probably doesn't make the yearlong absence better, but trust me, the plot is about to thicken quite a bit, and maybe then you will forgive me.

Maybe it was because of her pregnancy, but time began to pass in a bit of a haze for Sigyn. The only marker was the continuing preparations for the Solstice Hunts. She barely even saw Loki, he was too busy preparing for when he would assume the regency, Angrboða was working on an assignment from Laufey, Býleistr was too busy hovering at Laufey’s elbow and Sigyn was, on principle, giving Helblindi a wide berth after their encounter in the caves.

So, she was very much surprised when the king summoned her to his private rooms. “Your— Your majesty. To what do I owe the honor?”

“It occurred to me, Sigyn, that we have not spoken properly. I meant to remedy that. Please, sit.” The Jötun king indicated the one chair with a set of stairs leading up to its seat. Immediately, Sigyn realized it must have belonged to Fárbauti and a small level of discomfort materialized along with the queasiness that came from carrying a child. But she obeyed, trying to settle as best she could without feeling like she was occupying a ghost’s seat.

“How is the little one?” Laufey asked kindly, and Sigyn realized for the first time that he did have a certain paternal air about him.

“Well, I think. Unfortunately, everything I learned requires the use of a soul-forge, and there isn’t have one here.”

“I will have Angrboða reach out to either Asgard or Vanaheim on your behalf before Býleistr and I depart, if you wish.”

“No, I don’t want to trouble her, I can do it myself—”

“My dear, you are a princess of Jötunheim now, you do not have to do everything for yourself,” he scolded her.

“I know, your majesty, but I… like doing things. I always took care of my siblings, I was studying to be a healer… I’m not really someone who can sit and let others do what I can do myself,” she confessed.

“Sigyn, child, there is no need for you to be so formal, I am not Odin One-Eye.”

The gasp came unbidden, and Sigyn immediately covered her mouth to hide it. “Your majesty!”

“Laufey.”

“No… No, I shouldn’t… It wouldn’t be proper…”

“Forget whatever it is you learned in that rigid Æsir court, I want you to feel like a part of this family. I am not asking you to call me _Faðir_ because I have great respect for Ivaldi, I would never think of trying to supplant him in your heart.” Laufey reached out, placing a gentle hand on her stomach. Sigyn felt a kick in response and managed a small smile.

“I’ll try… Old habits die hard, though…”

“Little one.” The old giant raised his large thumb to brush her cheek. “Is something else troubling you?”

Sigyn hesitated, thinking back to her encounter with Helblindi and Skaði. “I suppose I’m a little confused as to how succession works here.” Laufey’s red eyes darkened slightly, and she began to panic. “Have I spoken out of turn?”

“I suppose my brood have gotten you involved in your squabbles, then.”

“That… is one way to put it, your maj— I mean, Laufey.”

“Do not judge them too harshly, little one. They are in a very unusual and uncomfortable position. What do you know of Jötunheim’s laws of inheritance?”

“Nothing, I’m afraid.”

“I’m not surprised. The means of passing power from one king to the next is a secret kept closely guarded by the royal family. No one knows who will be the next King until the moment of my death. And even then, the trials the next ruler will endure are guaranteed to be painful. And there is the chance of failure, which is fatal.”

“Then… what will happen to me? If Loki dies? What about our baby?” Sigyn’s arms curled around her stomach protectively.

“I do not know. Loki occupies the place of the first-born, but his _seiðr_ and size are unprecedented in a male of our line. Býleistr is young, inexperienced, and headstrong. And there has never been a Queen of Jötunheim through blood alone. Nor a ruler of the bloodline quite like the child you carry. Everything is uncertain.”

“I hate uncertainty.”

“I said something similar after Býleistr was born. Would you like to know what Fárbauti’s response was?”

“Yes, I think I would.”

“She said that uncertainty was the only certain thing in life.”

Sigyn couldn’t help laughing and this time, she didn’t conceal it. “That sounds like the kind of thing my uncle would say after inhaling a great deal of smoke with members of his court.”

“It might well be. I have not been to the court of Alfheim for a very long time, after all.” Laufey chuckled along with her. “Perhaps that will change after the hunts. Do not let the little one come before we return, I want to see them born.”

“I will do my best, but I cannot promise anything.”

“ _Faðir,_ I hope you’re not scaring her.” Both of them turned to see Loki standing in the door, playing with a _ljós._ “You know that’s not conducive for the babe.”

“Bah. Not even a _faðir_ yet yourself, and you think you can lecture me, boy?” the King scoffed. “I would have been changing your swaddling if you hadn’t been such a little thing and your _móðir_ feared I’d crush you with my thumb.”

“Oh, is that so? Maybe you won’t be allowed to even hold this one, then.”

“Loki, don’t be such a child,” Sigyn scolded, clambering down from the chair as best she could without losing her balance. “This is my baby too, remember.”

"Believe me, _hjarta_ , I have not forgotten. Not when you look as stunning as you do with a maternal glow."

"If you came here solely with the intention of whisking your mate off for a ravishing, Loki, be so good as to do it somewhere this old man will not have a chance of hearing it.”

“Perhaps Asgard should have been sending Fandral the Dashing as an ambassador all these years,” Sigyn interjected dryly. “An hour drinking with the two of you and all animosity between the realms would be disregarded in favor of going out to visit every woman in Yggdrasil.”

“You’re not making it any easier. Jealousy is far too endearing on you.”

Sigyn sucked in a breath and drew on the new powers of her _gipt_ , forming a snowball in her hand and launching it at Loki’s head. “We were having a lovely discussion and then you had to go and ruin it with your filthy mind,” she scolded, but Loki only laughed as the projectile hit his shoulder.

“We both know that you love it.”

“You’re going to sleep on the floor tonight if you don’t leave now.”

“Sigyn-princess commands.” He swept her an overly dramatic bow before leaving the room.

“You’re taming him quite well,” Laufey remarked with a smile. “Keep up the good work while I’m away.”

Sigyn blushed and laughed awkwardly. “I’ll try my best, but I make no promises about his behavior.”

* * *

 

“Hey.” Thor looked up to see Jane Foster approaching him with blankets in hand. “You beat me up here, that’s a new one.”

“Forgive me.” He moved over to allow her space on the long chair as she sat beside him.

“It’s totally okay.” She started tinkering with one of her latest devices, only for it to spark in her face and make her scowl and swear. “ _Miz-day-en_!”

“Calm down,” Thor reminded her gently. “Would you like help?”

“No, no, I’m fine. I can handle it on my own,” Jane insisted. “I’m just pissed at those jackasses from SHIELD. Why not take my firstborn kid while they’re at it?”

“Wouldn’t that require you to have a firstborn?” Thor suggested as Jane resumed her work and she snorted.

“Yeah, it would. And it’s a long, long way off. Maybe never.”

“Truly?” It was odd for him to think of any woman _not_ wanting children, save maybe Sif. Though perhaps it was not inaccurate to say that Jane had the warrior’s spirit, just that she had chosen to apply it to scholarly pursuits rather than to battle.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, kids would be nice, but that’s never really been a priority. That was part of why Don and I broke up. He wanted me to be supporting his career, rather than pursuing my own.”

“May I ask what the other part was?”

“Oh, a lot of things. Flirting with his nurses, blowing me off for his friends, not telling me when he was going to miss our date night. That kind of thing.” Jane sighed, looking up from her work to gaze at him suspiciously. “Why does it matter?”

“I have been here for months, Jane, yet I find I know very little about you. I would like to remedy that.”

“Thor,” she paused, chewing her lip. “Look, you’ve been really helpful, but I’m not looking for a new boyfriend.”

“I am not trying to be your boyfriend, Jane, merely your friend. I would like it if you could trust me a little more.”

“I trust you! I just don’t see how any of this is relevant to, well, _anything._ What matters is my work. Don’t you have anything like that?”

“I did.”

She fell silent, a look of unmistakable guilt on her face. “Sorry. I forgot. It’s just such a weird thing to think about. You look and act so human. Well, I mean, it’s dated human, but it’s human. I can’t really think of you as an alien.”

“I may as well be human now,” he muttered ruefully.

“That’s not a bad thing,” Jane pointed out, a trace of annoyance leaking into her voice.

“I meant no disrespect.”

“Well, you made it.”

“I am sorry.”

“You should be.” They sat in silence for a few moments as Jane fell back into her work, her tongue poking out between her lips as she concentrated.

“Jane?” He asked softly.

“Yeah?”

“What do you think of me?”

She set down her screwdriver and frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Your opinion of me,” he clarified.

“Well, I mean,” Jane hesitated, her brow furrowing. “You’ve been helpful. And I guess you’re good company. But if this is you having an existential crisis, I am not going to be much help to you, I’m sorry.”

“What do you think it means for someone to be worthy?”

“I guess it means that they’ve put in the work to earn the right to whatever it is they’re worthy of,” she answered. “But it also depends on whose point of view you’re going with. I mean, I think _I’m_ worthy of more grant money, but the board isn’t so sure, especially now that those suits have stolen so much of my stuff.”

Thor frowned, remembering the sound of his father’s voice echoing in his head as Mjölnir had remained immobile in the rocks.

_Whosoever holds this hammer, if he be worthy, shall possess the power of Thor._ Did that mean his father was still watching him, still deciding his fate?

* * *

 

“We’ll send word when the wolves have whelped, you’ll have your pick of the litter, Skrýmir,” Loki told the jötun from his seat on the throne. Sigyn watched from the edge of the hall, leaning against Angrboða for support. Her stomach had swollen to an almost grotesque size in the last few weeks, though apparently, that was normal for jötun pregnancies. A ‘growth spurt,’ Loki had called it with a laugh as Sigyn had started panicking.

“He’s doing well,” the older woman observed. “His _faðir_ will be very pleased.”

“It all seems so exhausting,” Sigyn murmured as Skrýmir bowed and stepped aside for the next petitioner. “Who’s that?”

“Bergfinnr, son of Thrym. You see the house lines on his arms that look like wings? That is how you know.”

“Yes,” Sigyn said hollowly. _Thrym_. One of the monsters of her childhood stories, the one who had stolen Asgardian weapons and relics as leverage to try and force her mother into marriage and been killed for it in the days leading up to the war.

Loki was speaking with Bergfinnr calmly, casually when suddenly he seemed to choke on the air and doubled over, grasping his chest. “Loki-Prince?”

“ _Vetur… hjarta…_ ” Loki gasped. Sigyn attempted to rush forwards but Angrboða caught her by the waist.

“No! You mustn’t touch him!”

“But he’s in pain! I’m a healer, I have to help!” Sigyn thrashed against her as the rest of the assembled court began rushing out of the hall. Loki’s face was twisted into an ugly mask of agony that nearly broke her heart. “Why are they all leaving him! Let me go to him!”

“Sigyn, _no_!” A wall of ice shot up around the throne, encasing it and Loki completely. Angrboða pulled her away, into one of the antechambers that had furniture small enough for them and pushed her into a chair, holding her down by the arms. “Listen to me. When a King dies in Jötunheim, the Casket of Ancient Winters chooses the next. But it is something the new King must survive alone.”

“But—”

“Sigyn, he will be alright. He’s strong and he’s clever, he will survive. You must believe it and you must go rest now. By sunrise tomorrow, you may well be the Queen of Jötunheim.”

Sigyn felt a wave of nausea far worse than her usual morning sickness. “Alright. Alright, if you’re sure. Will you let me up?”

“Yes.” Angrboða adjusted her grip and helped pull Sigyn up to her feet. “I will go find Helblindi. She should be told what is going on.”

Left alone, Sigyn felt a fog settle in her mind as she drifted back towards her usual rooms. Laufey was dying, or else already dead. Helblindi and Skaði could well be discovered. She didn’t even know what was happening to Býleistr—

“Sigyn-Princess.” She stopped short to find herself staring up at the wide face of the jötun from the hall. Bergfinnr Thrymson. “We were never properly introduced.”

“I know who you are,” she replied nervously, fighting the urge to back away from him.

“I am not my _faðir_.” He easily bent down and wrapped a hand around her back, rather unsubtly holding her in place.

“I never said you were.”

“Loki-Prince is not his _faðir_ either.” Sigyn’s skin began to prickle at those words, she sensed danger. “If he does not survive the night, the throne will most likely pass to Býleistr-Prince.”

“Please, let me go.”

“If that happens, someone would need to protect you and yours.” Bergfinnr brought his face down so that his scarlet eyes were locked with Sigyn’s. “I would do it gladly.”

“Is it the custom in Jötunheim to solicit a man’s beloved while he still lives?” Sigyn asked, her voice trembling. “Shame, sir. Shame. You are more like your _faðir_ than you initially protested. He made his attempt for my mother’s hand while Oðr still lived.”

“Loki-Prince could be dead with the morning.”

“Or he could live.”

“A runt like him? I doubt it.”

Sigyn’s _seiðr_ was meant for healing, and her practice with Fárbauti’s _gipt_ was lackluster at best, but at that moment, white-hot rage boiled inside her, and she let the power roam where it willed, pinning Bergfinnr to the wall and whisking her away on an icy wave, straight down the hall and into Loki’s study. She sealed up the entrance with another clumsy barrier and took a few deep breaths to calm down.

If Loki _did_ die, she would have to get out of the palace. She could seek asylum in Asgard once more, perhaps serve as an ambassador for Jötunheim. Bergfinnr had been right about one thing, it would not be safe for her in this realm without Loki. She was still too much of an outsider. The baby would be in danger.

Looking around, she realized she had never actually been in her husband’s study before. Loki was usually so private about it. Looking around, she couldn’t help but wonder if that was because it was an utter mess. Maps were strewn about everywhere, along with countless other trinkets and tools that Sigyn had no name for. And there were several very large crystals among those tools, the kind for scrying and conjuring, placed on a map of Asgard.

Her forehead began to ache, but it was not the same as when a vision was coming, that much she knew. No, it was something else, and it was pulling her closer to her husband’s worktable.


End file.
